TORIES 


(DUNTRY 


\  WILLIS  P.  KING.MJ) 


Stories 

OF 

A  Country  Doctor, 

BY  WILLIS  P.  KING,  M.  D. 


FIRST    VICE-PRESIDENT   OF  AMERICAN  MEDICAL    ASSOCIATION, 
LOC-PRESIDENT  OF  THE  MISSOURI  STATE  MEDICAL  ASSOCIATION, 
ASSISTANT  CHIEF  SURGEON  OF  THE  MISSOURI  PACIFIC  RAIL- 
WAT  Co.,  FORMERLY  LECTURER  ON   DISEASES  OF  WOMEN 
IN  THE  MEDICAL  DEPARTMENT  OF  THE  MISSOURI  STATE 
UNIVERSITY,  AND  PROFESSOR  OF  DISEASES  OF  WOMEN 
IN  THE  MEDICAL  DEPARTMENT  UNIVERSITY  OF  KAN- 
SAS CITY;  LECTURER  ON  ORTHOPAEDIC  SURGERY 
AND    CLINICAL   SURGERY  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY 
MEDICAL  COLLEGE  OF  KANSAS  CITY, MEMBER 
OF  THE    JACKSON  COUNTY  (Mo.)  MEDICAL 
SOCIETY,  EX-PRESIDENT  OF  THE  PETTIS 
COUNTY  (Mo.)  MEDICAL  SOCIETY,  FOR- 
MERLY ASSISTANT  PHYSICIAN  AND 
SURGEON  TO  THE  PETTIS  COUN- 
TY(Mo.)  JAIL  AND  POOR  HOUSE, 
AND  EX-PHYSICIAN  AND  SUR- 
GEON TO  THE  BRANCH- WA- 
TER MAN,  AND   HIS 
FOLKS. 


CHICAGO 

CLINIC  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

1410  E.  l^AVENSWOOD  PARK 

1908 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  Year  1889, 

BY  WILLIS  P.  KING,  M.  D. 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


^Dedication. 
TO  THE 

PROGRESSIVE,  GOOD,  CONSCIENTIOUS  AND  TRUE 

MEN  OF  THE  MEDICAL  PROFESSION 

OF  THE  UNITED  STATES, 

AND  TO 

THE  JOLLY  GOOD  FELLOWS  EVERYWHERE, 

THIS  BOOK 
IS  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED,  BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I— THE  WEST 

The  Pioneers — Causes  that  Move  Men  into  a  New  Coun- 
try— Character  of  the  People  who  Settled  Missouri 
— Their  Simple  Honesty  and  Hospitality — Dealing 
with  a  Dishonest  Neighbor — Helping  a  Neighbor — 
Athletic  Sports — Settling  a  Controversy — Old  Gill  R. 
and  His  Tangled  Shirt — A  Joke  on  Judge  H 13 

CHAPTER    II— EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER 
SCHOOLS 

Disadvantages  as  to  Education — The  Pioneer  School 
House — The  old  Irish  Teacher  and  His  Terrible  Dis- 
cipline— Text  Books — Examining  the  Teacher — 
Turning  the  Teacher  Out— Stimulants— Joe— The 
Mad  Teacher 33 

CHAPTER    III— OLD    TIME    DANCES    AND 
PARTIES 

Country    Dances   and   the    Dancers — Female    Critics — 

Three  Stories  of  Three  Generations  of  Men 47 

CHAPTER     IV— CIVILIZATION     AND     PIO- 
NEER WEDDINGS 

Good  Fellowship  and  Hospitality — Effects  of  Civilization 
— Dancing  Parties — A  Conspiracy,  and  What  Came 
of  It — Tom's  Appetite  Works  Havoc — Weddings 
— The  Preacher's  Two  Stories 61 

CHAPTER  V— PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER 
PEOPLE 

Influence  of  Education  on  the  Conformation  of  the  Body 
— Some  Specimens — Story  of  the  Old  Linen  Coat  and 
the  Masonic  March — Col.  Jack's  Story  of  His  Only 
Love 83 

CHAPTER  VI— THEN  AND   NOW. 

Hardships  of  the  Pioneer — The  Way  They  Lived — 
Muscle  and  its  Environment — The  Result  of  Edu- 
cation and  Wealth — C.  Augustus  and  Arabella — A 
Contrast— Why  ? 107 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER     VII— SUPERSTITIONS,     TRADI- 
TIONS AND  FOOLISH  IDEAS 

Antiquity  of  Superstition — Man  a  Superstitious  Animal 
— "Signs" — Crowing  Hens,  Bellowing  Cows,  Etc. 
— Losing  Her  "Cud" — McGee's  Diagnosis — Bible 
Witchery— Raising  the  Palate— The  Silver  Plate, 
Etc. — Passing  the  Handkerchief — Negro  Supersti- 
tions    121 

CHAPTER  VIII— PREACHER  DOCTORS, 
MIDWIVES  AND  NURSES 

Reasons  Why  the  Profession  do  not  Like  Preacher  Doc- 
tors— The  Nurse  and  the  "Nuss" — Stories  about 
"Nusses"  145 

CHAPTER  IX— THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN. 

His  General  Character  and  Habits;  His  Dog,  Team  and 

Wife — Stories  of  Keesecker  and  Old  Darling. ...   161 

CHAPTER  X— THE  UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN 
EARLY  PRACTICE 

The  Country  Doctor — The  Young  Doctor's  Dream — 
Obstacles — My  First  Case — Laughing  Down  Her 
Throat— The  Widow  B.  and  the  Night  I  Slept  with 
the  Cat— A  Blood-Curdling  Incident 185 

CHAPTER     XI— UPS     AND     DOWNS     CON- 
TINUED 

A  Contrast — How  to  Tell  When  Your  Patient  is  Dead — 
Cupping  the  Old  Lady — Smart  People — The  .Sick 
Horse — Fighting  Fire — The  Prairie  Mirage — Home 
Again 203 

CHAPTER  XII— BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS 

Wanted  to  be  a  Millionaire — A  Trip  to  Colorado — The 
"Phcenix"  and  the  Tree  Oyster — Natural  Phenom- 
ena— "The  Lightness  of  the  Atmosphere" — A 
Tenderfoot's  Failure — The  Grandeur  of  the  Moun- 
tains— The  Good  of  Desiring  to  do  Good 223 

CHAPTER  XIII— DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE 
AND  CONFESSIONS 

General  Considerations — "Cause  of  Bill  Simpson  Going 

to    H 1" — The    "Colonel"    and    the    Meteoric 

Shower — "Uncle  Mike"  and  the  Story  of  the  Ston- 
ing of  Stephen 241 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XIV— SHAM  SUICIDES 

A  Startling  Statement— The  Young  Wife— The  Jilted 
Girl  and  the  Deadly  Flour — Dr.  Eggslinger — Story 
of  the  Widow  Minor — The  Rejected  Lover — How 
to  Detect  the  Fraud 258 

CHAPTER  XV— LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 

General  Observations  on  Lying — Classification  of  Liars 
— Bill  Whittington  and  a  Sample  of  His  Lies — 
Sim's  Unfair  Trick— The  Story  of  the  Bullies- 
Jack,  the  Barber,  and  Rafferty's  Funeral — A  Great 
Shot  and  a  Fast  Trotter — Do  Doctors  Lie  ? — Several 
Samples  which  Answer  the  Question — An  Asylum 
for  Liars 275 

CHAPTER   XVI— CONSULTATIONS   AND 
THE  CODE 

Reasons  for  the  Code — Relations  of  Doctor  and  Patient 
— The  New  Comer  and  the  Emergency  Case — 
Smith  and  the  Cat  Skin  Poultice — Jones'  Hot  Corn 
and  Burnt  Feathers— "Old  Pill  Garlic"  and  the 
Dying  Girl 300 

CHAPTER     XVII— PEOPLE     WHO     ANNOY 
DOCTORS 

Patients,  Hotel  Keepers,  Etc. — The  Homely  Crank — 
"The  Hon.  Mrs.  Skewton" — Mr.  Gutzweiler — 
The  Sick  Girl,  the  Deaf  Landlady  with  the  Trum- 
pet, and  the  Milliner 321 

CHAPTER  XVIII— DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE? 

Helping  the  Doctor,  or  Otherwise — A  Second  Marriage 
and  a  Motherless  Child — The  Result  oi  Developing 
One  Side  of  the  Family — January  and  May — 
"Did  He  Kill  His  Wife?" 347 

CHAPTER  XIX— GOING  BACK  TO  COL 
LEGE 

Necessity  for  More  Education — The  Southwest — My 
Own  Trip— My  111  Fitting  Clothes— My  Plug  Hat 
and  the  Old  Maid — My  Revenge — The  Oyster  Sup- 
per with  Observations  on  the  Heathen 364 

CHAPTER  XX— QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY 

The  True  Physician— The  Different  Kinds  of  Quacks— 
The  Gentlemanly  Quack — The  Smart  Pretender — 
The  Professional  Buzzard  or  "Jim  Crow"  Doctor 
— "Abdominal  Digitalis  and  Aortic  Regurgitation" 
— Dr  Connecktie  and  Dr.  Gullus 379 


PREFACE 

"When  a  person  knows  a  story  that  he  thinks  he  ought  to  tell, 
If  he  doesn't  get  to  tell  it,  why,  of  course,  he  don't  feel  well." 

— Eugene  F.  Ware. 

Every  book  must  have  a  preface,  and  so, 
"yielding  to  an  imperious  custom,"  I  write 
one  for  mine.  The  preface  usually  tells  why 
the  author  wrote  the  book; — "there  was  a 
demand,"  "a  crying  need,"  "a  long  felt 
want,"  etc.,  etc. 

Now,  I  can  scarcely  tell  why  I  wrote  this 
book.  There  were  many  reasons  that  impelled 
me  to  the  task.  My  friends  urged  me  to  write 
it — friends  who  had  seen  me,  with  my  great 
capacity  for  enjoyment,  gallantly  wrestling 
with  poverty  year  after  year  and  generally 
getting  thrown  the  "three  best  in  five."  They 
thought  I  had  a  fortune  within  my  grasp  if 
I  would  only  put  my  ideas  and  my  stories 
into  a  book. 

They  desired  that  I  should  grow  rich  so 
that  they  could  borrow  my  money.  I  desired 
to  grow  rich  so  that  I  could  refuse  them.  I 
can't  refuse  them  so  long  as  I  am  poor. 

I  found  a  niche  ("a  long  felt  want,"  you 
see,  reader)  which  has  never  been  filled  by 
any  writer,  and  so  occupied  it. 

I  desired  to  give  the  world  the  benefit  of 
what  I  had  learned  of  humanity  in  a  quarter 
of  a  century's  practice.  I  desired  to  give 
the  praise  due  the  honest,  conscientious  and 
hard  working  men  in  my  profession — the 
noblest  and  most  unselfish  humanitarians  that 


io  PREFACE 

grace  the  earth  with  their  noble  deeds — as 
well  as  to  put  on  record  the  good,  the  beauti- 
ful and  true  in  human  nature  which  we  find 
in  connection  with  our  life  work. 

I  also  wished  to  hold  up  before  the  cal- 
cium light  of  public  scrutiny  and  to  properly 
excoriate  the  quacks  and  scoundrels  who 
infest  our  communities  and,  by  their  false- 
hoods and  frauds,  bring  disgrace  on  a  noble 
calling:  and,  I  desired  to  properly  characterize 
and  satirize  those  who  hinder  our  work  by 
their  ignorant  superstitions,  their  selfishness 
and  vanity. 

I  also  wished  to  go  down  in  history  with 
that  noble  army  of  the  world's  benefactors 
— the  book  writers,  as  a  man  who  had  writ- 
ten a  book.  I  hope  that  the  book  may  be 
the  means  of  affording  amusement  and  giv- 
ing pleasure  to  both  my  overworked  pro- 
fessional brethren  and  the  community  at 
large. 

And  last  and  best  of  all,  dear  reader,  I 
desired  to  make  something  out  of  the  enter- 
prise. If  I  do  there  will  be  rejoicing  at  our 
house  when  •  the  receipts  come  in.  There 
will  be  a  feast  in  which  the  timbrel  and  the 
hewgag  will  be  sounded,  and  I  promise  you 
that  the  widow  and  the  orphan  shall  not  be 
forgotten. 

Complaint  may  be  made  that  the  per- 
sonal pronoun  "I"  has  been  used  oftener 
than  it  should  have  been.  This  may  be  true. 
My  friends  say  that  I  have  a  plenty  of  that 
very  necessary  faculty  called  self  esteem.  To 
this  I  also  "plead  guilty  and  put  myself  upon 
the  country." 


PREFACE  it 

As  a  defense,  however,  I  desire  to  say 
that  most  of  the  things  written  about  in  this 
book  have  a  personal  relationship  to  myself,  and, 
being  too  modest  to  put  myself  on  an  equality 
with  the  editors  and  the  Lord,  by  saying  "we," 
I  was  compelled  to  say  "I;"  so  "the  'IV 
seem  to  have  it." 

The  publishers  are  instructed  that,  if  the 
font  of  large  "I's"  runs  out,  to  put  in  little 
"i's"  and  go  on  with  the  book,  so,  "the  'i's' 
have  it." 

I  bow, 

W.  P.  K. 
KANSAS  CITY,  Mo. 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  WEST 

THE  PIONEER — CAUSES  THAT  MOVE  MEN  INTO 
A  NEW  COUNTRY — CHARACTER  OF  THE  PEO- 
PLE WHO  SETTLED  MISSOURI — THEIR  SIMPLE 
HONESTY  AND  HOSPITALITY — DEALING  WITH 
A  DISHONEST  NEIGHBOR — ATHLETIC  SPORTS  — 
SETTLING  A  CONTROVERSY— OLD  GILL  R.  AND 
HIS  TANGLED  SHIRT — A  JOKE  ON  JUDGE  H. 

"Go  West,  young  man,  and  grow  up  with 
the  country."     What  is  "the  West?"     At  one 


time  western  New  York  was  "the  West;"  then 
Pennsylvania  was  "the  West;"  then  Ohio  and 
Tennessee;  then  Indiana,  Illinois  and  Mis- 


14  THE  WEST 

souri;  afterwards  Minnesota,  Kansas  and 
Nebraska;  then  Colorado,  Nevada,  Oregon 
and  the  territories;  and  now — there  is  no  West. 

Immigration,  capital,  railroads,  the  tele- 
graph, newspapers,  and  all  the  arts  of  civiliza- 
tion have  penetrated  to  the  Pacific  Ocean, 
from  Puget  Sound  to  the  Bay  of  San  Fran- 
cisco; and  everywhere,  where  only  a  few  years 
ago  the  wild  Indian,  and  the  wild  beasts  of 
the  forests  and  the  prairies  held  sway,  and 
where  the  deep  silence  had  never  been  broken 
by  civilized  man,  now  on  the  prairies,  in  the 
valleys,  and  on  the  mountain  sides,  cities, 
towns  and  villages  stand,  and  in  place  of  the 
yell  of  the  untutored  savage,  the  prattle  of 
civilized  children  on  their  way  to  school,  or 
the  plaintive  voice  of  prayer  is  heard.  Instead 
of  the  screams  of  the  wolf  we  hear  the  bay 
of  the  faithful  watch  dog;  and  instead  of  the 
rush  of  the  great  herds  of  buffalo  we  hear  the 
peaceful  low  of  the  Short  Horn,  the  Jersey, 
the  Hereford  and  the  Polled  Angus,  as  they 
quietly  graze  in  meadows  of  clover,  blue  grass 
and  timothy. 

This  is  a  wonderful  change  to  have  been 
wrought  in  less  than  a  century.  How,  and 
by  what  means,  has  this  change  been  wrought  ? 
By  the  energy,  nerve  and  pluck  of  man.  By 
the  indomitable  courage  of  Americans;  of 
men  who  were  tired  of  the  restraints  and  forms 
of  older  communities;  of  men  who  desired 
and  sought  a  wider  and  better  field  for  them- 
selves and  those  dependent  upon  them. 

It  is  a  fact  that  in  all  communities  there 
is  a  tendency  toward  an  accumulation  of 
money — the  wealth  of  the  community — in  the 


THE  WEST  15 

hands  of  a  few.  The  brainy,  the  crafty, 
and  the  stingy  men;  the  men  who  starve  them- 
selves in  order  to  hoard  money;  the  men  who 
always  have  something  to  sell;  or,  who,  if 
they  do  purchase,  always  do  so  when  a  thing 
is  cheap,  and  never  sell  except  when  it  is  high; 
the  men  who  loan  money  at  twenty-five  per 
cent;  who  take  "cut-throat"  mortgages  and 
sorrowfully  sell  their  neighbors  .out  when  the 
mortgage  is  due. 

This  man  you  will  find  everywhere,  a 
man  who  seems  to  have  been  born  with  a  dollar 
in  his  hand,  and  that  dollar  crying  for  ten 
per  cent,  secured  by  a  deed  of  trust.  These 
men  are  often  ignorant,  but  always  know  how 
to  accumulate  and  keep  money.  They  are 
sometimes  religious,  but  never  let  their  religion 
get  between  them  and  ten  per  cent,  interest. 
They  often  express  and  seem  to  feel  an  inter- 
est in  their  fellow  man,  but  when  you  probe 
the  matter  to  the  bottom,  it  is  ten  per  cent, 
interest  or  more. 

I  have  seen  a  man  of  this  type  go  so  ragged 
that  you  wouldn't  have  thought  of  using  his 
suit  for  a  scarecrow,  and  wearing  a  hat  that  a 
decent,  thoughtful  hen  wouldn't  deign  to 
make  a  nest  in.  They  are  always  poor  and 
always  hard  up,  if  you  will  believe  them;  but, 
when  the  opportunity  of  a  good  bargain  offers 
they  can  always  go  down  and  get  out  an  old 
pocket  book  filled  with  bills  pressed  so  tight 
that  it  is  difficult  to  open  them,  and  with  twenty 
dollar  gold  pieces  whose  luster  is  dimmed  by 
the  sweat  of  their  stingy  groins. 

I  am  neither  an  anarchist,  nor  a  com- 
munist, but  with  all  the  power  of  an  intense 


16  THE  WEST 

nature,  I  contemn  and  despise  the  man  who 
gets  money  through  selfish  motives  and  purely 
and  solely  for  selfish  purposes. 

Well,  these  are  the  fellows  who  cause  immi- 
gration; these  are  the  men  who  compel  other 
and  better  men  to  move.  They  get  their 
clutches  on  him;  they  get  a  mortgage  on  him, 
they  entangle  him  in  their  tentacles  like  the 
octopus,  and  finally  end  by  exposing  him  at 
public  auction  according  to  the  accepted 
forms  of  law. 

When  a  man  is  sold  out,  "broken  up," 
he  wants  to  move.  His  financial  prostration 
is  an  evidence  of  weakness,  and  is,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes,  a  defeat,  and  no  man  wishes 
to  remain  where  he  has  exhibited  his  weak- 
ness— where  he  has  suffered  defeat.  He  seeks 
an  outlet,  and  the  outlet  is  in  a  new  country, 
in  a  country  where  land  is  cheap,  where  graz- 
ing is  good,  where  the  social  forms  are  simple, 
where  a  living  is  easily  obtained,  and  where 
ten  per  cent,  has  not  yet  gained  a  foothold. 

Of  course  I  do  not  wish  to  be  understood 
as  saying  that  all  men  who  seek  a  new  coun- 
try do  so  from  the  causes  mentioned,  for  it 
would  not  be  true.  There  are  those  who 
simply  feel  the  restraints  of  social  forms  which 
grow  as  society  grows  older;  there  are  those 
of  a  venturesome  spirit  who  delight  in  the 
boundless  freedom  of  a  new  country;  there 
are  those  who  desire  to  take  advantage  of  a 
new  country  in  order  to  improve  their  con- 
dition, and  there  are  those  who  seek  a  new 
country  because  they  can  live  in  contact  with 
wild  nature  without  labor — the  man  with 
the  rod  and  the  gun — who  wants  nothing 


THE  WEST  17 

but  a  primitive  shelter  and  a  chance  to  hunt 
and  fish.  Civilization  is  always  crowding  such 
people  and  they  are  always  running  to  get 
away  from  the  pressure  and  they  will  con- 
tinue to  run  so  long  as  there  is  a  place  to  run 
to. 

Much  of  that  part  of  our  country  which 
lies  west  of  the  Mississippi  river  was  almost 
an  unbroken  forest  and  boundless,  uncul- 
tivated prairies  up  to  three-quarters  of  a  cen- 
tury ago — indeed  much  of  it  was  in  the  same 
condition  within  the  memory  of  the  writer. 
It  was  a  country  that  was  good  to  look  upon. 
It  had  splendid  rivers — capable  of  bearing 
upon  their  bosoms  the  commerce  of  the  con- 
tinent; forests  unhewn  and  untouched,  a 
splendid  as  could  be  found  anywhere;  prairies 
and  valleys,  containing  millions  on  millions 
of  acres,  which  under  cultivation,  woulds 
almost  supply  the  world  with  bread.  Forests, 
mountains,  valleys  and  plains,  whose  solitude 
except  by  the  savage  and  the  wild  beast  had 
never  been  broken. 

If  a  person  speaking  only  the  English 
tongue  and  capable  of  making  himself  heard 
hundreds  of  miles  could  have  taken  his  posi- 
tion where  the  capital  of  Kansas  now  stands 
and  had  called  in  his  native  tongue  for  help 
or  for  companionship,  he  would  have  received 
no  answer;  if  he  had  gone  to  the  present  capital 
of  Nebraska  and  had  called  in  the  same  tongue, 
no  one  would  have  responded;  if  he  had  gone 
to  Denver  and  sent  his  voice  ringing  and 
reverberating  through  the  rocky  mountains  and 
wailing  out  across  the  sandy  plains,  it  would 
have  come  back  to  him  in  hollow  mockery, 


18  THE  WEST 

for  no  one  speaking  his  language  would  have 
been  near  enough  to  respond.  He  might 
have  gone  to  the  present  capitals  of  Nevada, 
Utah,  California,  Oregon,  Wyoming,  Wash- 
ington, Idaho  and  Dakota  and  lifted  up  his 
voice  and  sent  it  up  and  down  great  rivers 
and  over  mountains,  valley,  hill  and  plain, 
and  still  his  own  voice  would  have  mocked 
him  from  the  depths  of  the  solitudes  and 
he  would  have  received  no  answer  except  in 
the  yell  of  the  wild  savage,  the  scream  of  the 
coyote  and  the  roar  of  the  grizzly  bear. 

The  first  settlements  west  of  the  Mississippi 
(excepting  those  under  the  Spanish  '  and 
French)  were  made  by  the  pioneers  from 
Kentucky,  Virginia,  Tennessee  and  North 
Carolina  with  an  occasional  straggler  from 
Pennsylvania  or  some  other  Eastern  or  North- 
ern State. 

They  were  a  hardy  set.  As  a  rule  their 
parents  had  been  pioneers  in  Kentucky  and 
Tennessee.  They  were,  to  some  extent,  inured 
to  hardship,  and  they  possessed  faculties, 
both  inherited  and  acquired,  which  enabled 
them  to  successfully  contend  with  the  diffi- 
culties which  they  daily  encountered. 

They  were  a  brave,  noble  and  unselfish 
people — the  men  being  strong  and  courageous 
and  the  women  virtuous  and  pure.  Few 
had  much  education,  so  far  as  books  were 
concerned;  many  had  none.  They  were  hos- 
pitable and  generous  to  a  fault.  They  liter- 
ally hewed  their  way  into  the  unbroken  forests 
and  formed  their  settlements.  It  was  neces- 
sary for  many  families  to  settle  near  each 
other,  for  the  Indian  still  possessed  the  land, 


THE  WEST  19 

and,  notwithstanding  the  numerous  treaties, 
which  were  intended  to  dispossess  him  and 
render  the  homes  and  lives  of  the  settlers 
secure,  yet  he  was  a  dangerous  neighbor, 
and  often  made  murderous  incursions  into 
these  settlements,  killing  men,  women  and 
children  and  driving  away  stock. 

Notwithstanding  the  dangers  and  diffi- 
culties which  surrounded  and  beset  them 
they  were  a  happy  people.  There  were  no 
newspapers  but  they  had  the  news.  It  was 
longer  in  coming  but  it  lasted  longer  when 
they  once  got  it.  They  had  no  theatres  but 
they  had  their  fun.  They  were  an  original 
set,  and  would  go  to  more  trouble  and  spend 
more  time  in  perpetrating  a  joke  on  a  neigh- 
bor than  most  men  would  spend  now-a-days 
in  organizing  a  mining  company  or  starting 
a  bank. 

These  people  had  but  little.  They  needed 
but  little.  What  one  had  all  had.  Such  a 
thing  as  a  neighbor  wanting  for  anything, 
no  matter  whether  he  was  able  to  pay  for  it 
or  not,  was  unheard  of.  Those  who  had 
more  milk,  butter  and  eggs  than  they  could 
use  gave  to  those  who  were  less  fortunate. 
Even  during  the  boyhood  of  the  writer  (and 
that  is  not  so  long  ago)  this  practice  prevailed. 
Not  until  the  railroads  penetrated  the  State 
of  Missouri  did  our  people  begin  to  sell  eggs, 
butter,  milk  and  "garden  truck." 

The  people  whom  these  railroads  brought 
from  the  crowded  North  and  East  brought 
these  practices  with  them  and  the  descendants 
of  the  pioneers  adopted  them  in  self  de- 
fense. 


20  THE  WEST 

But  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  with  the  change 
much  of  the  old  time  fellowship  and  hospi- 
tality has  departed. 

When  a  " newcomer"  came  in  he  either 
camped  out,  or  if  the  weather  was  inclement, 
some  one  would  give  him  shelter,  until  a  house 
could  be  built.  The  people  would  gather  on 
a  given  day  and  would  cut,  haul,  scalp  and 
build  a  house,  daub  it,  make  the  boards  and 
cover  it,  put  in  doors  and  build  a  chimney  in  one 
or  two  days  and  the  family  would  move  in. 

This  was  called  "building  a  house  from 
the  stump." 

If  the  family  were  poor  one  neighbor  would 
furnish  some  bacon,  another  some  meal, 
another  some  honey,  another  a  pair  of  pigs 
or  chickens,  and,  in  this  way  the  family  would 
be  "set  up  to  house  keepin'"  in  about  as  good 
style  as  their  neighbors. 

Every  new  family  was  scanned  and  their 
habits,  talk  and  ways  studied  and  discussed 
until  the  neighborhood  settled  down  to  some 
sort  of  conviction  as  to  what  kind  of  folks 
the  "new  comers"  were.  If  they  proved  to 
be  kind,  honest  and  neighborly  they  were  ac- 
cepted as  a  part  of  the  community,  and  could 
borrow  and  lend  without  let  or  hindrance; 
but,  if  anything  wrong  was  suspected  con- 
cerning them  they  were  put  under  surveil- 
lance and  kept  at  arms  length  until  they  could 
show  themselves  to  be  above  suspicion. 

Almost  any  kind  of  a  character  was  toler- 
ated except  dishonest  ones.  The  pioneers 
to  the  West  were  a,  rigidly  honest  people  and 
they  would  not  tolerate  dishonesty  or  swind- 
ling in  any  form. 


THE  WEST  21 

People  had  no  locks  to  their  doors  in  those 
days.  Sometimes  a  man  would  take  his  family 
and  go  away  into  another  settlement  and  be 
away  for  days  and  weeks  with  no  other  security 
for  his  household  goods  than  a  simple  wooden 
door  latch,  "with  the  string  on  the  outside." 

Stealing  was  a  rare  thing.  Occasionally 
there  would  be  a  dishonest  man  (and  he  was 
invariably  a  lazy  one)  who  would  steal  corn 
or  meat,  and  sometimes  slaughter  a  neigh- 
bor's hog  in  the  woods.  These  matters  would 
be  reported  and  discussed  and  the  honest 
men  in  the  settlement  would  almost  invari- 
ably settle  on  the  right  party.  Parties  would 
be  organized  to  watch  for  him  and  they  gen- 
erally caught  him.  When  they  had  caught 
him  they  would  guard  him  until  daylight 
and  then  the  men  in  the  settlement  would  be 
called  together  and  the  whole  party  would 
proceed  with  the  prisoner  to  the  dense  woods 
where  there  were  fallen  logs  on  which  they  could 
sit.  The  prisoner  would  be  taken  some  dis- 
tance away  and  put  under  guard  of  some  of 
the  younger  men.  The  old  men  would  then 
hear  all  that  could  be  said  or  proven  against 
the  offender.  If  the  case  were  a  very  aggra- 
vated one  they  would  probably  decide  to 
"withe  him"  (whip  him)  and  then  make  him 
leave  the  settlement.  But,  as  a  rule,  they 
decided  to  simply  make  him  leave.  After 
the  decision  the  offender  would  be  brought 
up  and  notified  as  to  what  he  must  do.  If 
any  of  his  family  ^ere  sick  they  would  give 
him  time  for  the  sick  one  to  recover. 

It  he  had  no  team,  or  not  enough  to  haul 
his  household  goods,  they  would  furnish  a 


22  THE  WEST 

team  and  one  or  two  young  men  to  go  with 
him  a  day  or  two;  but  he  had  to  go.  There 
was  no  appeal  from  this  solemn  tribunal. 
This  was  the  court  of  first  and  last  resort, 
and  I  never  heard  of  any  man  taking  an  appeal. 

If  there  was  a  man  in  the  neighborhood 
who  was  cruel  to  his  family — more  espe- 
cially if  he  beat  his  wife — the  matter  would 
be  discussed,  facts  obtained,  and  when  enough 
had  been  ascertained  to  justify  it  a  commit- 
tee was  appointed  who  wpuld  go  in  the  dead 
of  night  and  lay  a  bunch  of  hickory  sprouts 
at  his  door.  This  was  a  warning  and  the 
offender  knew  what  it  meant  and  generally 
"improved  his  ways."  If  he  did  not  a  com- 
mittee would  go  at  night,  take  him  out  and 
tie  him  up,  and  one  or  two  men  would  "lint 
him,"  or  "welt  him,"  or  "lap  the  bud  around 
him,"  as  they  called  it.  This  was  almost 
sure  to  have  the  desired  effect.  I  never  heard 
of  one  of  these  men  taking  revenge.  A  man 
who  is  cowardly  enough  to  beat  his  wife  rarely 
has  courage  enough  to  take  revenge  on  a 
man. 

There  was  very  little  litigation  in  those 
good  old  days.  Property  was  not  sufficiently 
valuable,  as  a  rule,  to  go  to  law  about;  and 
then  there  was  an  innate  honesty  and  sense 
of  justice  amongst  these  grand  old  pioneers 
that  caused  them  to  obey  the  golden  rule. 

If  they  did  have  differences  they  often 
arbitrated  them.  Each  party  would  choose 
a  neighbor  and  these  two  would  choose  a 
third;  the  committee  would  meet  and  hear 
both  sides  and  then  go  and  sit  on  a  log  and 
discuss  it.  After  coming  to  an  agreement 


THE  WEST  23 

they  would  call  the  parties  to  the  contest  and 
announce  their  award — which  was  generally 
a  just  one — and  the  parties  would  silently 
accept  it.  If  the  parties  were  still  disposed 
to  disagree  and  be  unneighborly  a  few  neigh- 
bors would  often  get  together  and  call  upon 
them  and  lecture  them  upon  the  unreason- 
ableness of  their  differences  and  the  bad 
effect  it  had  on  the  "settlement"  and  would 
often  get  the  parties  to  agree  to  "make 
up."  When  they  "made  up"  they  "shuck 
hands"  in  the  presence  of  the  committee 
and  these  settlements  were  usually  religiously 
observed. 

Occasionally,  however,  men  would  get  so 
incensed  at  each  other  that  nothing  would  do 
but  a  fight.  Under  such  circumstances  they 
would  meet  at  some  designated  point  in  the 
neighborhood,  with  most  of  the  men  present 
to  see  "fair  play"  and  then  fight  it  out.  These 
fights  were  called  "pitched  battles."  They 
did  not  fight  according  to  the  rules  of  the 
"London  prize  ring,"  nor  the  "Marquis  of 
Queensberry."  Knocking,  kicking,  biting  and 
gouging  were  allowed,  and  they  fought  until 
one  or  the  other  said  "Nuff"  (enough)  or 
"Take  him  off."  They  never  used  weapons. 
The  man  who  attempted  to  do  so  was  regarded 
as  a  coward  and  he  was  liable  to  get  a  blow 
from  any  one  of  the  bystanders  upon  the 
mere  attempt  to  draw  a  weapon.  Every- 
body was  in  favor  of  a  fair  fight  and  if  a  man 
was  getting  the  worst  of  it  and  his  own  brother 
attempted  to  interfere  he  would  be  sure  to 
get  a  blow  from  behind  that  would  call  his 
attention  to  himself  instead  of  his  brother. 


24  THE  WEST 

Sometimes  a  man  would  fight,  when  he 
knew,  from  the  size,  strength  and  reputation 
of  his  opponent,  that  he  would  get  whipped; 
but,  he  would  fight  rather  than  back  out. 
He  would  say  to  his  friends  "I  reckon  I  can't 
whup  him,  but  I'll  keep  the  flies  off  uv  him 
while  he's  a  whuppin'  me." 

Some  men  were  notorious  for  raising  a 
row  and  getting  others  into  it  and  then  slip- 
ping out  and  avoiding  the  fight  themselves. 
They  were  good  "mouth  fighters,"  but  were 
not  worth  a  cent  when  it  came  to  the  real 
"tug  of  war." 

After  ^a  territorial  organization  was  formed 
there  were  "muster  days."  It  was  neces- 
sary to  keep  a  trained  militia,  properly  organ- 
ized and  armed,  in  order  to  be  ready  to  meet 
the  incursions  of  the  Indians.  There  were 
the  local  musters  and  the  general  musters. 
The  general  musters  were  held  only  once 
each  year.  At  these  musters  there  were  many 
trials  of  strength  and  personal  prowess  in 
foot  racing,  jumping,  wrestling  and  fighting. 
Each  "settlement"  had  its  champion  jumper, 
runner,  wrestler,  and  fighter.  These  lat- 
ter were  called  "bullies."  The  champions  of 
one  settlement  would  be  pitted  against  the 
champions  of  another,  and,  when  the  men 
were  not  on  parade,  there  would  be  a  con- 
test of  some  kind  going  on  almost  constantly. 

As  long  as  they  kept  sober  the  "amuse- 
ments" would  be  confined  to  jumping,  run- 
ning and  wrestling;  but  when  they  got  drunk 
—which  they  often  did,  as  these  musters 
were  generally  held  at  some  still  house — the 
bullies  would  be  brought  out,  and,  after  the 


THE  WEST  25 

usual  amount  of  blowing  by  the  friends  of 
the  "bullies,"  a  ring  would  be  formed  and 
a  fight  would  occur.  The  blowing  would 
generally  be  in  such  phrases  as  this: 

"I'll  bet  a  hoss,  saddle  and  bridle  that 
Bill  Johnson  can  whup  any  man  that  ever 
wore  hair  or  walked  water!" 

Which  would  be  answered  by  something 
like  this: 

"I've  got  more  money  than  a  mule  can 
pull  on  a  half  sled,  down  hill  with  snow  on 
the  ground,  an'  I'll  bet  my  pile  that  Butch 
Anderson  is  the  best  man  on  top  of  the  yeth." 

Some  of  these  fights  were,  no  doubt,  ter- 
rible to  witness;  but  they  didn't  kill  each 
other  as  men  do  now  with  the  dirk  and  the 
deadly  revolver.  They  may  seem  more  cruel 
to  the  sensitive  nerves  of  our  modern  casu- 
ists, but  the  results  were  not  so  bad. 

A  fight  of  this  kind  usually  settled  the 
question  as  to  who  was  the  "bully"  of  a  cer- 
tain "deestrict,"  and  he  rarely  had  to  "whup" 
the  same  man  a  second  time. 

Brute  force  is  a  bad  method  to  resort  to 
for  the  settlement  of  difficulties,  either  real 
or  imaginary,  between  individuals  or  nations; 
but  it  is  the  more  unreasonable  when  there  is 
nothing  to  settle. 

Apropos  of  this  subject  an  old  Missouri 
lawyer,  who  has  been  a  man  of  prominence 
in  Missouri  in  law  and  politics  for  the  last 
half  century,  related  to  me  the  following: 

In  the  "good  old  days"  a  case  was  being 
tried  before  a  justice  of  the  peace.  The  liti- 
gants had  had  difficulties  growing  out  of  the 
close  proximity  of  their  farms  to  each  other. 


26 


THE  WEST 


Cross  fences,  breachy  cattle  and  other  such 
matters  had  finally  brought  them  into  court 
to  settle  their  disputes.  They  were  very  bit- 
ter against  each  other,  and,  as  the  trial  pro- 
gressed, they  grew  hotter  and  hotter  and 
finally  got  to  firing  invectives  at  each  other 


"LET  'EM  FIGHT  IT  OUT." 

right  before  the  seat  of  justice.  Finally  they 
began  to  "talk  fight"  and  one  of  them  said: 

"If  you  can  whip  me  you  can  have  this 
matter  your  own  way." 

The  other  responded  with  a  like  statement 
and  at  it  they  went.  They  were  soon  down 
on  the  floor,  rolling  and  tumbling,  biting 
and  gouging,  after  the  fashion  of  those  days. 
The  jury  arose  to  their  feet  and  everything 


THE  WEST  27 

was  excitement  and  confusion.  Several  men 
shouted : 

"Don't  let  'em  fight!"  "Part  'em!"  "Part 
'em!" 

The  justice  sprang  into  the  midst  of  the  surg- 
ing crowd,  and,  instead  of  "commanding  the 
peace,"  as  it  was  his  duty  to  do,  yelled,  "Let 
'em  alone,  men;  let  'em  fight  it  out;  if  they  can 
settle  it  that  way  it  will  save  the  costs." 

And  they  "settled  it." 

This  economical  idea  as  to  "costs"  does  not 
prevail  in  our  justice's  courts  to  any  large  extent 
at  the  present  day. 

While  speaking  of  courts  I  am  reminded  that 
in  those  times  the  counties  were  very  large — 
one  county  being  as  large  as  a  Congressional 
district  is  now.  A  circuit  judge  would  sit  in 
turn  in  three  or  four  of  these  counties.  Men  who 
had  business  in  court  were  often  compelled  to 
go  from  thirty  to  one  hundred  miles.  Those 
who  went  so  far  would  remain  until  the  court 
adjourned,  or  until  their  business  was  disposed 
of.  The  jurors  often  lived  from  fifteen  to  thirty 
miles  away.  Those  who  only  lived  fifteen  or 
twenty  miles  would  return  home  at  night  and 
attend  to  their  stock,  take  breakfast  by  candle 
light,  and  would  be  back  at  the  county  seat  by 
the  time  court  would  convene  at  9  o'clock,  a.  m. 

A  story  illustrative  of  those  times  is  told  of 
one  Gill  R.  He  lived  on  the  southern  border  of 
what  is  now  Cooper  county,  and  was  on  the  panel 
of  the  grand  jury  for  this  particular  term.  The 
grand  jury  had  particular  instructions  from  the 
judge  to  be  in  their  room  at  9  o'clock,  a.  m. 

One  morning  Gill  R.  did  not  report  until  ten 
o'clock.  The  judge  called  him  up  and  said: 


28  THE  WEST 

"Mr.  R.  you  are  an  hour  late.  You  under- 
stand the  rules  of  this  court.  If  you  can  not 
give  a  reasonable  excuse  for  thus  delaying  the 
work  of  this  court  I  shall  fine  you." 

Gill  was  a  great  wit  and  also  stammered.  He 
excused  himself  after  this  fashion: 

"Well,  Jedge,  you  k-know  I  live  t-twenty 
mile  away,  and  I  have  to  g-go  home  every  n-night 


"AN'  SHE  HAD  TO  REEL  IT." 

to  f-feed  my  s-stalk.  Well,  I  h-hain't  got  but 
one  s-shirt  an'  I've  been  w-wearin'  it  all  the 
week  an'  it  got  p-purty  d-dirty.  Last  n-night 
my  ole  'oman  t-hot  she'd  b-better  w-wash  it, 
so  I  went  to  b-bed  and  Met  her  w-wash  it. 
This  m-mornin'  I  had  to  1-lay  abed  'till  she 
ironed  it,  and  w-when  s-she  w-went  to  iron  it 
it  w-was  so  r-ragged  she  g-got  it  so  t-tangled 
t-that  I'll  be  dad  rot  if  sh-she  d-didn't  have  to 
r-reel  it  b-bejore  s-she  c-could  entangle  it!" 


THE  WEST  29 

This  was  greeted  with  a  burst  of  laughter 
from  the  jury  and  spectators  in  which  the  judge 
joined. 

"Very  well,  Mr.  R."  said  the  judge,  "your 
excuse  is  a  valid  one;  take  your  place  with  the 
grand  jury." 

Such  an  original  story  in  those  days  was 
worth  more  than  an  eloquent  appeal.  Every- 
body appreciated  it,  laughed  over  it  and  told  it 
when  they  went  home,  so  that,  in  a  few  weeks 
as  many  persons  would  know  all  the  details 
as  well  as  if  it  had  been  published  in  a  paper. 

The  attorneys  in  those  days  "rode  the  cir- 
cuit"— that  is,  they  would  follow  the  court  from 
one  county  to  another.  There  were  no  stages, 
so  that  attorneys  would  ride  on  horseback  for 
a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  to  court.  They  gen- 
erally went  four  or  five  together,  so  that  the  trip 
would  not  be  so  lonesome. 

They  were  a  jolly  set  and  often  played  severe 
practical  jokes  on  each  other. 

There  was  a  lawyer  living  at  B — ville  in  those 
days  who  was  an  original  character.  He  wore 
his  hair  long,  and  plaited  it  in  a  queue  and  let 
it  hang  down  his  back.  He  shaved  his  face  per- 
fectly clean  every  morning,  had  a  high,  piping 
voice,  and  was  a  perfect  terror  to  a  witness  on 
cross  examinaton.  He  was  original,  witty, 
severe,  tyrannical,  terrific.  Strong  men  grew 
speechless  when  H.  opened  fire  on  them. 

On  one  of  these  long  trips  to  court  at  Spring- 
field, Mo.,  H.  and  three  or  four  other  jolly  fel- 
lows were  together.  They  were  arguing,  ban- 
tering and  joking  each  other  all  the  way.  They 
had  their  regular  stopping  places  on  the  way 
where  they  were  well  known,  but  there  was 


30 


THE  WEST 


one  place  where  they  were  accustomed  to  remain 
over  night  where  the  family  had  moved  away 
and  a  new  family  had  moved  in. 

Just  before  they  got  to  this  place  H.  met 
some  one  he  knew  and  stopped  to  talk.  The 
others  rode  on,  and  at  the  suggestion  of  one  of 
their  number,  decided  to  play  a  joke  on  H. 
They  stopped  at  the  house,  told  the  lady  who 


"YOU  NASTY,  STINKIN'  OLD  HUSSY." 

they  were  and  got  permission  to  stay  all  night. 
Then  one  of  them  spoke  to  the  lady  in  a  very 
serious  tone;  said  he: 

"Madam,  we  have  something  to  tell  you 
which  is  very  disagreeable.  There  is  a  woman 
dressed  in  men's  clothes  who  is  following  us. 
We  have  tried  every  way  that  we  could  to  get 
rid  of  her,  but  we  can  not.  We  do  not  know 
what  her  designs  are,  but  we  do  not  think  that 
they  can  be  otherwise  than  bad.  We  are  mar- 
ried men  and  we  do  not  want  this  woman  in 


THE  WEST  31 

our  company,  and  we  hope*  you  will  not  permit 
her  to  remain  here.  She  is*  very  impudent  and 
will  insist  that  she  is  not  a  woman;  but  don't 
you  believe  her.  Whatever  you  do  don't  let  her 
stay.  She  will  soon  be  here  for  we  left  her  only 
a  few  miles  back." 

He  had  scarcely  told  his  story  when  H.  rode 
up  and  alighted.  As  he  came  into  the  house 
the  old  lady  met  him  on  the  front  porch  with 
broom  in  hand — 

"Don't  you  offer  to  come  in  here,  you  nasty, 
old  hussy!" 

"Why,  madam,  what's  the  matter?"  asked 
H.  in  his  piping  voice.  This  voice  was  enough 
to  confirm  the  story  and  she  made  at  him  with 
the  broom: 

"I'll  show  you  what's  the  matter,  you  brazen, 
impudent  old  baggage.  Get  out  'o  here,  I  say! 
You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  you  nasty 
old  thing.  You'd  better  take  them  men's  things 
off  and  put  on  your  own  clothes  and  go  to  your 
'man'  if  you've  got  one." 

H.  dodged  and  protested  and  the  old  lady 
grew  more  vehement  in  her  denunciations  of 
"the  old  hussy,"  and  pursued  him  with  the 
broom.  The  other  lawyers  were  falling  all 
around  the  front  porch  and  splitting  their  sides 
at  the  fun. 

After  they  had  enjoyed  the  matter  to  their 
hearts'  content  they  went  out  and  captured  the 
broom  and  explained  to  the  lady  that  it  was  a 
joke.  It  took  some  time  to  convince  her  that 
he  was  not  a  woman.  Even  after  supper  as 
they  sat  around  the  fire  and  talked  she  would 
eye  H.  suspiciously  for  awhile  and  then  look 


32  THE  WEST 

over  toward  the  broom  as  if  she  would  like  to 
"give  him  a  swipe"  anyhow. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  Judge  H.  heard  the 
last  of  this  story. 


CHAPTER   II 

EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER  SCHOOLS 

DISADVANTAGES  AS  TO  EDUCATION — THE  PIONEER 
SCHOOL  HOUSE — THE  OLD  IRISH  TEACHER  AND 
HIS  TERRIBLE  DISCIPLINE — TEXT  BOOKS — 
EXAMINING  THE  TEACHER — TURNING  THE 
TEACHER  OUT — STIMULANTS — JOE — THE  MAD 
TEACHER. 

It  will  be  readi- 
ly understood 
that,  in  a  com- 
munity so  new, 
so  far  from  the 
old  civilizations, 
and  with  a  new 
territorial  o  r  - 
ganization,  with 
large  counties — 
as  large  as  con- 
gressional dis- 
ptricts  now  are — 
I  say  it  will  be 
readily  surmised 
that  the  advantages  as  to  education  were  limited. 
The  settlers  themselves  were  ignorant  as  to 
books.  They  knew  and  thought  little  of  the 
advantages  that  education  confers.  There  was 
little  to  stimulate  the  young  to  study,  because 
their  parents  knew  nothing  of  books  and  of  the 
enjoyments  which  they  bring. 

Ignorant  children  do  not  study  of  their  own 
accord,  as  a  rule.     In  the  matter  of  the  develop- 


34         EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER  SCHOOLS 

ment  of  the  mind  there  must  always  be  some  one 
above  the  pupil  who  does  the  drawing  out. 
Hence,  in  a  new  country — where  education 
seemed  to  be  worth  so  little — and  where,  if  one 
were  educated,  his  education  only  served,  in  a 
measure,  to  isolate  him  from  his  fellows — it  is 
no  wonder  that  so  little  attention  was  given  to 
the  development  of  the  mind. 

But,  there  was  a  start.  There  are  always 
men  in  a  community,  even  amongst  the  pioneers, 
who  know  something  of  the  advantages  that 
accrue  to  one  through  the  education  of  the  mind. 
These  persons,  scattered  here  and  there  through 
the  settlements,  stimulated  their  fellows,  and, 
after  awhile,  they  began  to  build  school  houses. 

The  first  school  houses  were,  like  the  dwell- 
ings of  the  settlers,  built  of  logs.  There  would 
be  a  meeting,  and  noses  counted,  a  calculation 
made  as  to  the  number  of  logs  needed,  and  then 
each  man  assigned  his  proportion.  After  the 
logs  were  on  the  ground,  there  would  be  a  meet- 
ing to  which  all  would  bring  their  dinners;  the 
house  would  be  raised,  the  logs  "scalped,"  boards 
made,  the  roof  put  on  and  "weighted,"  a  chim- 
ney built  and,  sometimes,  a  puncheon  floor  laid. 
"Sometimes,"  I  say,  for  oftener  there  was  no 
floor,  except  the  ground.  The  school  houses 
were  invariably  daubed  with  mud,  a  half  of 
one  log  cut  out  at  a  proper  height  the  full  length 
of  the  house,  in  order  to  admit  light  to  the  writing 
bench.  Over  this  opening  the  school  girls  would 
paste  old  thin  muslin,  or  greased  paper,  in  order 
to  admit  the  light  and  still  keep  out  the  air. 

There  was  never  more  than  a  three  months 
school  during  the  year,  and  the  teachers  were 
almost  invariably  of  the  Irish  nationality. 


EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER  SCHOOLS        35 

The  political  oppressions,  revolutions  and  up- 
heavals in  their  own  unhappy  land  had  driven 
many  educated  men  of  that  nationality  to  this 
country.  They  seemed  to  seek  oblivion  in  the 
far  away  new  settlements,  and  many  of  them 
became  teachers.  The  old  Irish  school  teacher 
was  as  much  a  fixture  in  these  new  settlements 
as  the  log  house,  the  rifle  or  the  fort.  Their 
methods  were  crude,  their  text  books  few  and 
their  discipline  terrible.  I  have  heard  many  a 
tale  from  my  grandparents  of  the  terrible  whip- 
pings which  these  stern  masters  used  to  admin- 
ister to  the  youth  of  those  times. 

If  a  young  man  were  big  enough  to  whip 
the  teacher  and  resisted  the  proposed  thrashing 
he  would  be  given  his  choice  of  either  taking  the 
whipping  or  leaving  the  school.  So  eager  were 
some  of  the  young  men  to  avail  themseves  of 
the  slight  advantages  which  these  poor  schools 
offered  that  they  would  often  submit  to  the  hu- 
miliation of  being  mounted  on  another  boy's 
back  with  arms  around  his  neck  and  tightly 
held  while  the  teacher  satisfied  his  wrath  and 
the  violated  law.  The  discipline  was  a  mixture 
of  that  of  the  British  army  and  navy  of  that 
period,  and  was,  no  doubt,  borrowed  from  these 
two  institutions  of  old  England. 

Beyond  the  spelling  book  and  small  diction- 
ary, and  an  arithmetic  of  these  old  times  (in 
the  latter  "Tare  and  Tret"  constituted  a  most 
important  part)  the  text  books  were  anything — 
The  New  Testament,  Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Prog- 
ress— anything  that  the  family  might  possess. 
Weem's  Life  of  Washington,  Franklin,  Marion 
and  other  heroes  of  the  revolution  were  about 
the  only  histories  used.  St.  Charles,  Boone  and 


36        EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER  SCHOOLS 

Howard  counties  (outside  of  St.  Louis)  were 
the  first  to  enjoy  anything  like  school  advantages, 
beyond  those  named,  for  a  long  time.  As  new 
counties  would  be  laid  out  and  settled  the  in- 
habitants would  go  through  the  same  stage  with 
the  log  school  house,  with  three  months'  school- 
ing during  the  year,  the  indifferent  text  books 
and  the  sometimes  still  more  indifferent  teacher, 
who,  if  he  were  not  a  married  man,  generally 
"boarded  among  the  scholars." 

The  writer  went  to  school  in  the  log  school 
house,  with  the  wooden  chimney  and  only  one- 
half  the  floor  laid  with  plank,  with  the  peculiar 
long  window  above  described,  and  afterwards 
taught  in  the  same  kind  of  a  house  and  "boarded 
among  the  scholars." 

Before  there  was  a  state  and  county  school 
fund  and  a  law  creating  a  county  commissioner 
the  Trustees  would  often  examine  the  teacher 
themselves.  These  examinations  were,  no  doubt 
in  many  instances,  very  funny. 

There  is  an  old  story  told  that  at  one  of  these 
examinations,  one  of  the  Trustees  asked  the 
applicant  if  the  earth  was  round  or  flat.  He 
answered  that  he  wasn't  sure,  but  he  could  teach 
it  either  way.  The  funniest  part  of  it  was  that 
they  decided  that  he  should  teach  that  it  was  flat. 

There  was  a  custom  very  common  in  those 
old  pioneer  days,  which  fortunately  or  unfor- 
tunately, has  become  obsolete — that  of  turning 
the  teacher  out  for  holidays.  Just  a  few  days 
before  Christmas  the  boys  would  begin  to  talk 
about  "having  Christmas" — enjoying  the  holi- 
days. The  teacher  would  almost  certainly  insist 
that  he  couldn't  spare  the  time  and  intended 
teaching  during  all  the  Christmas  days.  As  a 


EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER  SCHOOLS        37 

rule  the  boys  waited  until  the  24th  of  December, 
when  a  number  of  the  larger  ones  would  go 
before  daylight,  and  would  enter  the  school  house, 
make  a  fire  and  then  bar  the  door  with  benches 
from  the  inside.  As  the  children  came  they 
would  be  let  in,  by  removing  the  benches  or  by 
being  pulled  through  the  window.  When  the 
teacher  came  he  would  scold  and  threaten, 
would  push  at  the  door,  make  great  feints  of 
breaking  it  down  with  an  improvised  battering 
ram,  and  would  often  climb  on  the  house  and 
put  his  coat  over  the  chimney  in  order  to  smoke 
them  out.  The  boys  would  then  cover  the  fire 
with  ashes  in  order  to  stop  its  smoking.  As  a 
last  resort  the  teacher  would  come  to  the  door 
or  window,  and  after  giving  the  boys  a  serious 
lecture,  would  inform  them  that  if  they  did  not 
intend  to  let  him  teach  he  would  go  home. 
This  would  bring  the  boys  out  and  after  a  long 
chase  the  teacher  would  be  caught,  and  then, 
after  a  short  struggle,  he  would  be  tied  hand  and 
foot. 

The  boys  did  not  only  demand  "holidays," 
but  they  also  wanted  a  treat — apples  certainly 
and  candy,  if  it  could  be  had — and  sometimes, 
I  am  sorry  to  say,  whisky. 

If  the  teacher  did  not  yield  they  would  take 
him  to  the  nearest  creek  and  proceed  to  duck 
him.  If  ice  were  on  the  creek  a  hole  would  be 
cut  in  it  for  that  purpose.  The  writer  has  helped 
to  "turn  out"  many  teachers  and  has  been  often 
"turned  out,"  and  always  enjoyed  it,  and  when 
"turned  out,"  always  treated,  but  never  but 
once  was  he  carried  to  the  creek. 

This  time  there  were  three  or  four  very  rude 
boys  who  demanded  whisky.  I  would  not  yield 


38         EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER  SCHOOLS 

and  so  was  carried  to  the  creek  and  held  over 
a  very  cold  looking  hole  in  the  ice.  Matters 
looked  quite  serious.  I  promised  the  treat  of 
candy  and  apples,  but  informed  the  young  row- 
dies that  I  would  be  drowned  before  I  would 
buy  whisky  for  school  children,  and  informed 
them  further  that,  if  they  ducked  me,  I  would 
whip  the  crowd,  one  at  a  time,  with  my  fists 


"THEY  HELD  ME  OVER  A  COLD  LOOKING  HOLE." 

or  with  clubs  afterwards.  The  large  girls  (who 
generally  took  part  in  the  "turning  out")  here 
came  to  the  rescue,  and  with  sticks  and  stones 
beat  their  brothers  away  and  unbound  me. 
When  once  unbound  I  seized  a  big  club  and, 
taking  a  position  on  high  ground  (in  more  senses 
than  one)  I  dictated  terms.  The  terms  were, 
candy  and  apples;  and  they  were  accepted. 

This  demand  for  whisky  grew  out  of  the  fact 
that  almost  everybody  in  those  days  had  whisky 


EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER  SCHOOLS        39 

at  their  homes  during  the  Christmas  days. 
This  practice  prevails,  to  a  large  extent,  all  over 
the  country,  to-day — except  that  the  wealthy 
keep  wine  instead.  I  have  never  been  able  to 
understand  why  it  is  that  so  many  people  desire 
to  drink  on  Christmas. 

It  is  a  time  which  is  supposed  to  represent 
the  birth  of  Christ;  therefore  a  man  feels  excused 
in  getting  drunk. 

The  Saviour  is  sent  to  redeem  the  world; 
therefore  men  put  themselves  in  the  worst  pos- 
sible attitude  for  redemption. 

The  Son  of  God  came  upon  the  earth  with 
healing  in  his  hands ;  therefore  a  brutal  man  gets 
drunk  and  goes  home  and  beats  his  innocent 
and  helpless  wife. 

Another,  while  intoxicated,  sends  a  deadly 
bullet  crashing  through  the  brain  of  his  best 
friend,  because  "God  so  loved  the  world  that 
he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son,"  and  so  forth. 

In  short,  Christmas  drinking  and  Christmas 
drunkenness  is  the  greatest  contradiction,  and 
the  most  inexcusable  of  all  drinking. 

The  Christmas  eggnog  is  generally  a  harmless 
affair,  but  is  often  the  first  step  toward  the  drunk- 
ard's hell,  and  therefore  should  have  the  con- 
demnation of  all  right  thinking  men  and  women. 

But  I  digress:  As  I  have  said  the  schools  of 
those  days  were  inferior  to  what  they  are  now. 
Their  methods  were  crude;  the  teachers  often 
ignorant  and  the  text  books  few  and  indifferent. 
And  yet  the  children  learned.  Their  greatest 
drawback  consisted  in  the  fact  that  they  were 
not  permitted  to  advance. 

If  the  teachers  were  ignorant  (which  was  often 
the  case)  then  the  pupil  would  be  turned  back 


40        EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER  SCHOOLS 

as  soon  as  he  had  mastered  all  that  the  teacher 
knew  on  any  given  subject.  This  was  dis- 
couraging. 

Many  funny  things  occurred  in  those  schools. 
I  remember  once  when  teaching  there  was  a 
boy  in  the  class  named  Joe.  Joe  was  an  oddity. 
He  looked  odd.  He  was  as  dull  a  boy  as  I 
ever  saw  in  school.  He  was  "bug  eyed"  and 
had  an  enormously  large  upper  lip,  which  was 
always  red.  It  always  had  the  appearance  of 
having  been  recently  chafed  by  the  contact  of 
something  rough  and  irritating.  Joe  had  been 
to  school  many  terms  before  he  came  to  me,  but 
he  had  not  yet  learned  all  of  his  a  b  c's.  He. 
could  not  tell  b  d  p  and  q  apart  for  the  life  of 
him. 

As  an  evidence  of  just  how  stupid  Joe  was, 
there  was  a  bright,  mischievous  boy  who  went 
home  the  same  road  with  Joe  and  he  used  to 
play  the  same  trick  on  Joe  every  afternoon. 
He  would  get  his  right  hand  full  of  loose  dirt, 
then  going  to  Joe  he  would  say: 

"Joe  I'll  bet  that  you  can't  hide  a  pin  so 
that  I  can  not  guess  where  it  is  at  three 
guesses. " 

Joe  would  bet,  of  course.  The  other  boy 
would  turn  his  back  while  Joe  would  hide  the 
pin.  Then,  after  facing  each  other,  the  guessing 
would  begin: 

"It's  in  your  vest." 

"No-h." 

"It's  in  your  shirt." 

"No-h." 

"Well  then,  it's  in  your  mouth. *' 

"No-h." 

"Now,  open  your  mouth  and  let  me  see." 


EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER  SCHOOLS        41 

Joe  would  innocently  open  his  mouth  and 
in  would  go  the  dirt  out  of  the  other  boy's  hand. 

Joe  would  strangle,  sputter,  cough  and  bel- 
low. He  would  go  home  and  tell  his  parents 
and  tell  me  the  next  morning,  and  then  suffer 
himself  to  be  drawn  into  the  same  trap  again 
in  exactly  the  same  way.  I  gave  the  other  boy 
a  slight  correction  once  or  twice,  but  it  did  no 
good.  The  boy  would  rather  submit  to  correc- 
tion than  lose  the  fun. 

As  I  said,  Joe  would  not  or  could  not  learn. 
He  would  get  over  as  far  as  "baker,"  in  the  old 
Webster's  elementary  spelling  book,  and  it  would 
get  to  be  such  hard  pulling  that  I  would  have 
to  turn  him  back.  He  had  an  inordinate  desire 
to  go  into  the  second  reader  with  a  class  in  which 
he  had  some  playmates  and  intimate  associates. 

I  had  told  him  once  or  twice  that  he  must 
learn  to  spell  first.  (This  may  not  have  been 
the  best  method  with  such  a  pupil,  but  it  was 
the  best  I  knew  then.) 

One  morning  as  Joe  came  in  I  noticed  that 
he  had  a  second  reader  under  his  arm.  He 
took  his  seat  with  the  second  reader  class. 
He  found  the  lesson  by  the  "pictur,"  and 
seemed  to  be  intently  studying  it.  I  paid  no 
attention,  but  went  on  with  the  morning's 
work  just  as  if  Joe  were  in  his  proper  place. 

Finally  I  called  the  class  in  the  second 
reader.  Joe  came  up  in  the  middle  of  the 
class,  no  doubt  having  a  sense  of  being  pro- 
tected or  backed  up  by  having  somebody  on 
each  side  of  him.  The  class  read  by  para- 
graphs, and  criticised  each  other  in  the  pro- 
nunciation of  words,  the  observance  of  punctua- 
tion, and  so  forth. 


42        EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER  SCHOOLS 

I  turned  my  back,  for  I  was  so  full  that 
I  could  scarcely  refrain  from  exploding.  The 
very  sight  of  Joe  always  had  this  effect  on 
me,  and  the  ludicrous  position  in  which  he 
had  placed  himself  almost  broke  down  my 
self-control. 

When  it  came  Joe's  time  to  read  there  was 
a  pause. 

"Read,  next,"   I  said. 

There  was  a  titter  in  the  class  and  then  I- 
heard  a  staccattoed  "Umh!" 

"Read,  next,"  said  I,  somewhat  louder, 
and  there  was  another  "Umh!"  and  the  class 
burst  into  an  uncontrollable  roar. 

Joe's  "Umh!"  came  as  if  some  one  had 
punched  him  in  the  ribs  suddenly 

I  looked  around,  in  feigned  surprise. 

Joe's  face  and  attitude  were  a  study.  He 
had  his  shoulders  humped  up;  one  foot  was 
off  the  floor  and  going  through  the  performance 
of  scraping  an  imaginary  mosquito  off  the 
opposite  shin;  his  face  was  awry,  and  he  was 
altogether  about  as  ludicrous  an  object  as  I 
ever  saw. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Joe?"  I  asked 
with  feigned  surprise. 

"I'm  a  readin'  in  the  second  reader," 
was  the  answer. 

"You  are?  Weil,  why  don't  you  read?" 
I  asked. 

"I  could  if  I  could  make  out  this  first  word," 
said  Joe.  The  first  word  was  "the!" 

''Who  told  you  that  you  might  read  in  this 
class,  Joe?" 

"Pap  did." 

'Your  pap  did?     When  did  he  tell  you?" 


EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER  SCHOOLS        43 

"This  mornin'." 

"You  are  sure  of  that,  Joe." 

"Yes  sir,  I  am;  for  I  heard  him  when  he 
said  it." 

"What  did  your  father  say,  Joe?" 

"He  said  fur  me  to  bring  my  second  reader 
to  school  an'  read  in  this  class." 


'IT  MOUGHT  A  BEEN  A  HOSS  NICKERIN." 

"Joe,  I  don't  believe  your  father  said  any 
such  thing,  for  he  knows  you  can  not  even 
read  in  the  first  reader.  I  feel  sure  Joe  that 
you  are  telling  me  a  falsehood.  Now,  are 
you  sure  that  that  is  what  he  said?" 

"Yes    sir,  (hesitating)  I— I  think    he  did." 

"Now,  Joe,  I  will  give  you  one  more  chance 

to    tell    the    truth.     Are-you-sure-now-that-you 

heard  -  your  -  f  ather-tell-you-to-bring-your-second 


44        EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER  SCHOOLS 

reader  to  school  and  read  with  this  class?  Be 
careful  now." 

Joe  was  in  great  distress.  He  shifted  his 
weight  on  to  the  opposite  leg,  fought  an  im- 
aginary mosquito  off  the  other  shin,  shrugged 
up  his  shoulders,  walled  up  his  eyes  and  ran 
his  tongue  away  down  to  the  -point  of  his 
chin — 

"What  do  you  say,1  Joe?  Did  you  hear 
your  father  say  that?" 

Joe  made  a  profound  struggle,  heaved  up 
another  "Umh,"  and  answered: 

"Well,  sir,  I  heard  something  it  mought  a 
been  a  hoss  nickerin'!" 

This  was  too  much.  I  couldn't  restore 
order  for  ten  minutes.  Indeed  I  don't  think 
that  I  "came  to  order"  much  before  that  time 
myself. 

A  few  years  before  the  war  I  was  riding 
through  one  of  the  sparsely  settled  border 
counties,  looking  for  a  point  for  a  summer 
school — having  exhausted  the  appropriation 
and  the  willingness  to  personal  sacrifice  with 
a  long  winter  term  in  another  county.  Along 
in  the  afternoon  I  came  by  a  log  school  house, 
and  before  I  got  to  it,  I  could  hear  the  teacher's 
voice: 

"Git  yer  lessons!" 

He  seemed  very  harsh  or  angry. 

I  got  down  and  went  in. 

The  teacher  was  a  strapping  big  fellow  in 
his  shirt  sleeves,  without  shoes,  and  with  a 
foot  as  big  as  a  fiddle  box.  I  introduced  my- 
self, but  didn't  get  much  in  return  except  a 
request  or  order  to  "take  a  seat."  I  had  not 
more  than  sat  down  when  he  raised  a  great 


EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER  SCHOOLS        45 


long  hickory  sprout,  brought  it  down  its  full 
length  on  the  floor  and  yelled: 

"Git  yer  lessons!" 

The  children  seemed  to  be  very  much  afraid 
and  stuck  very  close  to  their  books. 

I  remained  a  half  hour  or  more,  and  at 
least  a  half  dozen  times  he  brought  down  his 
sprout  and  yelled: 

"Git  yer  lessons,  I  tell  ye!" 


I  got  tired  and 
bade  him  good  after- 
noon and  went  on. 

I  stopped  in  the 
neighborhood  for  the 
night,  and,  after  get- 
ting acquainted  with 
my  host,  I  told  him 
of  having  stopped  at 
the  school  house,  and  of  the  seeming  wrath 
of  the  teacher.  The  old  man  laughed  long 
and  loud 


"AN1  HE  CLIM  A  TREE. 


46        EDUCATION  AND  PIONEER  SCHOOLS 

"Why,"  said  he,  "that's  Bob  Musick; 
he's  madder'n  a  wet  hen.  Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 
Jementally,  I  reckon  he  is  mad,  shore  enough. 
You  see,  he  went  down  to  the  crick  at  play- 
time yesterday  an'  went  in  swimmin'  an'  the 
big  boys  slipped  aroun'  an'  stole  his  clo's.  He 
couldn't  find  'em  no  whar.  Well,  he  worked 
his  way  roun'  through  the  bresh  to  ole  Jake 
Peterses,  where  he  boards,  and  cum  up  at 
the  back  of  the  field  a  yellin'  for  Jake  to  bring 
him  some  clo's.  Old  Peterses'  dogs  heard 
him  and  lit  out  atter  him  an'  he  clim  a  tree. 
Ole  Miss  Peters  and  the  two  big  gals  heard 
the  racket  and  went  out  an'  got  a  peep  at 
him  afore  they  found  out  what  the  matter  was. 
Atter  a  while  he  got  some  clo's  an'  went  in, 
but  they  say  he  wouldn't  eat  a  bite  las'  night 
and  scacely  anything  this  mornin',  an'  he's 
jest  swore  vengeance  agin'  the  boys.  They're 
hidin'  out  an'  skippin'  roun'  now.  I'm  reely 
afeard  he'll  hurt  somebody,  if  some  one  don't 
take  a  gun  to  'im  and  make  'im  shet  up.  Oh, 
Peters  says  the  feller's  jest  a'most  ravin'  dees- 
tracted.  He  haint  found  his  shoes  yit,  an' 
that's  why  he  was  barfooted  to-day.  They 
aint  no  other  shoes  in  the  settlement  that  he 
can  git  them  live  calves  o'  his'n  into.  I  feel 
kind  o'  sorry  fur  the  big-footed  fool,  but  he'll 
hev  to  larn  to  take  a  joke  if  he  stays  in  these 
parts." 

The  boys'  trick  and  the  teacher's  discom- 
fiture was  regarded,  all  over  the  neighbor- 
hood, as  a  good  joke.  So  it  was;  but  it  was 
rough. 


CHAPTER  III 

OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES 

COUNTRY  DANCES  AND  THE  DANCERS — FEMALE 
CRITICS — THREE  STORIES  OF  THREE  GENERA- 
TIONS OF  MEN. 

The  parties  in  the  good  old  pioneer  days 
were    generally    held    at    night.     One    of    the 


"settlers"  would  build  a  new  house,  or  barn; 
clear  a  piece  of  new  ground  or  have  a  log 
rolling  or  tobacco  stripping. 

On    such    occasions    the    "women    folks" 
would  have  a  quilt  in  the  frames  and  ready 


48  OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES 

to  be  quilted;  the  men  would  raise  the  house 
or  barn,  or  do  whatever  was  to  be  done,  and 
at  noon  there  would  be  some  jumping,  wrest- 
ling and  foot  racing.  The  women  and  girls 
would  put  in  their  time  quilting  and  preparing 
dinner. 

These  dinners  were  something  to  be  re- 
membered. They  had  everything  in  general, 
but  chicken  pie  and  "pound  cake"  in  par- 
ticular. These  two  dishes  constituted  the  rare 
and  the  good  at  one  of  these  gatherings.  I 
should  add  pumpkin  pie  also.  He  who  has 
never  eaten  the  good,  old  fashioned  spiced 
pumpkin  pie  which  was  prepared  at  one  of 
these  old  fashioned  gatherings  has  not  tasted 
of  all  the  good  things  that  are  made  for  man. 

After  the  "raising"  was  completed  the 
young  men  would  repair  to  the  house  in  the 
dusk  of  evening.  If  the  quilt  was  done  it 
would  be  taken  out  of  the  frames;  if  not  it 
would  be  wound  up — that  is,  lifted  to  the 
ceiling  or  "loft,"  and  then  securely  tied  over- 
head. If  there  was  a  bed  in  the  "big  room" 
it  would  be  taken  down  and  removed.  The 
fiddlers  would  get  ready  while  everybody  ate 
a  hasty  supper.  This  evening  meal  was  en- 
joyed most  by  the  old  folks,  for  the  younger 
ones  would  be  so  elated  with  the  prospect 
of  what  was  to  come  that  they  could  not  eat. 
The  "fiddlers"  (there  were  no  violinists  in 
those  days)  would  take  their  places  in  the 
corner  and  begin  to  "tune  up."  Four  young 
men  would  seek  partners  and  take  their  places 
for  a  cotillion.  Then  the  fiddlers  would  strike 
up  a  familiar  strain  and  the  dancing  would 
begin. 


OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES  49 

And  it  was  dancing. 

None  of  your  gliding  and  sliding  to  and  fro, 
a  little  hugging  here  and  there,  touching  the 
tips  of  fingers  and  bowing  and  scraping.  Oh, 
no.  This  was  dancing.  The  music  was  such 
as  "Fishers,"  "Durangs,"  "Rickett's"  and 
"The  Sailor's"  hornpipes,  "The  Arkansas 
Traveler,"  "Cotton-Eyed  Joe,"  "Nancy  Row- 
land," "Great  big  'taters  in  sandy  land," 
"Pouring  soapsuds  over  the  fence,"  "The 
snow  bird  on  the  ash  bank,"  "The  Route," 
"The  Rye  Straw,"  "Run,  nigger,  run,"  etc. 
Sometimes  one  of  the  fiddlers  would  act  as 
"prompter,"  or,  if  he  could  not,  then  some  one 
else  would  be  selected. 

The  following  constituted  some  of  the  figures : 

"Manners  to  your  pardners;"  "balance 
all;"  "promenade  eight;"  "swing  your  pard- 
ners;" "first  four  forward;"  "first  lady  cross 
over;"  "three  to  one;"  "gentleman  dance;" 
"swing  opposite  lady;"  "swing  your  pardner;" 
"four  hands  round;"  "back  again;"  "bal- 
ance to  your  places;"  "balance  all;"  "pro- 
menade eight"  (all).  This  figure  would  be 
varied  by  having  "second  lady  cross  over," 
until  they  went  entirely  around.  After  this 
figure  had  been  exhausted  others  would  be 
called  such  as  "ladies  to  the  center,  cross 
hands  and  swing  half  'round;"  "change  hands 
and  back  again,"  "swing  and  ketch  your 
pardners" — the  ladies  here  with  one  hand 
joined  to  the  lady  opposite,  would  "ketch  their 
pardners"  with  the  other  as  they  passed  and 
they  would  go  swinging  around  with  the  men 
on  the  outside,  like  an  immense  pair  of  wind- 
ing blades,  or  a  cross.  The  men,  being  on 


50  OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES 

the  outside,  would  have  to  "kiver  more  ground'* 
in  the  process  of  swinging,  and  many  active 
young  fellows,  with  pants  in  boots,  would 
cut  some  "high  didos"  as  they  went  around. 
The  "balance  all"  and  "promenade  eight/' 
however,  gave  those  fellows  a  chance  to  "come 
out  strong."  In  the  "balance  all"  they  would 
"cut  the  pigeon  wing"  and  the  "double  shuffle," 
and  in  promenading  a  big  fellow  with  a  small 
partner  would  often  catch  her  by  the  right 
hand  with  his  left,  seize  her  around  the  waist 
with  his  right,  lift  her  to  his  right  hip  and  go 
careering  around  like  a  wild  horse  in  a  muddy 
lot.  The  girls  would  generally  affect  to  get 
angry  at  such  familiarity  and  you  would  hear 
such  expressions  as  this: 

"Now,  John,  you've  jest  got  to  behave 
yourself,  or  I  won't  dance  another  bit;"  but 
she  generally  continued  dancing,  nevertheless. 

This  dancing  would  be  continued  into  the 
"wee  sma'  hours" — a  new  set  taking  the 
place  of  the  one  just  finished,  and  scarcely 
any  getting  to  dance  as  much  as  they  desired, 
unless  it  would  be  an  unusually  pretty  girl, 
who  had  many  admirers. 

Such  a  one  was  often  in  demand — dancing, 
if  she  would,  almost  every  set,  to  the  envy  of 
the  less  favored  ones. 

"And  were  there  pretty  girls  in  those  days?" 

Yes,  there  were  pretty  ones  in  that  locality. 
The  human  face  is  pretty  only  by  comparison. 
There  is  always  some  woman,  in  every  nook 
and  corner  of  the  earth,  who  is  prettier  than 
her  neighbors.  There  is  always  a  woman 
with  a  better  eye,  more  regular  features,  a 
better  shaped  and  more  tempting  mouth,  a 


OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES  51 

smaller  foot  and  a  better  figure  than  the  others; 
and  she  usually  has  better  taste.  She  can 
make  more  out  of  a  pink  ribbon  and  a  flower 
— out  of  the  few  little  things  in  color  which 
the  winds  of  chance  blow  in  her  way.  With 
these  and  the  flowers  she  bedecks  herself  in 
a  simple  and  charming  way,  and  she  invariably 


"JEST  LOOK  AT  SALLY  SLEEPER  HOW  SHE  TWISTS 
AND  WIGGLES  HERSELF.". 

catches  the  eyes  of  the  men.  These  are  the 
women  that  men  fall  in  love  with  and  rave 
about  at  first  sight.  They  are  not  always 
the  best  but  they  generally  have  pick  and 
choice  amongst  the  men.  But  as  to  the  beauty 
— well,  they  were  pretty  by  comparison,  as 
I  said.  I  do  not  know  how  one  of  those  rural 
beauties  would  look  in  a  modern  Boston, 
St.  Louis,  or  Louisville  setting.  Not  well, 
I  fear.  They  were  not  educated.  They  were 


52  OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES 

not  cultured.  They  knew  nothing  of  "society," 
etiquette,  books,  etc.  Few  things  of  the  hu- 
man kind,  male  or  female,  that  are  unedu- 
cated, are  pretty.  Men  and  women,  like  the 
domesticated  fruits  and  shrubs,  grow  prettier 
as  they  are  more  and  more  cultivated. 

"And  better?" 

Alas!  no.  Unfortunately,  no.  The  purest 
women  that  ever  lived  were  these  same  women. 

The  women  who  stood  around  the  walls 
and  watched  the  dancers  would  criticise  those 
in  the  dance  just  as  women  criticise  each  other 
under  similar  circumstances  now. 

"Jest  look  at  Sally  Sleeper  how  she  twists 
and  wiggles  when  she's  a  dancin'.  She's  jest 
a  puttin'  on  airs.  Anybody  knows  that's  on- 
nateral."  And,  "Look  at  Cyntha  Smiley, 
how  she's  a  leanin'  on  Joe  Blessin'.  She's 
jest  dead  in  love  with  him.  Look  how  she 
looks  up  into  his  face  and  rolls  her  eyes  like 
a  dyin'  calf.  The  way  she's  a  takin'  on  jest 
makes  me  sick;  an'  I'll  lay  that  he  don't  keer 
a  cent  for  her;"  and  so  on,  just  as  it  occurs 
now,  modified  only  by  the  education  and 
talent  of  the  critic. 

Women  have  done  this  from  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world  and  will  continue  to  do  so 
until  they  are  called  from  their  criticisms  by 
the  blast  of  Gabriel's  trumpet  at  the  "crack  o' 
doom."  I  presume  the  wild  Indians  in  the 
mountains,  and  the  negro  women  in  Africa 
criticise  each  other. 

There  has  never  been  but  one  woman  who 
was  not  criticised — dear,  old  mother  Eve. 
How  happy  she  must  have  been  in  having  no 
one  to  make  remarks  on  the  way  she  wore 


OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES  53 

her  fig  leaf  and  "wiggled  herself  when  she 
walked!" 

I  met  with  three  men  on  a  train  about 
ten  years  ago.  They  were  all  old  Missourians 
and  aged  eighty,  sixty  and  forty.  They  had 
all  seen  more  or  less  of  pioneer  life,  and,  of 
course,  the  conversation  turned  upon  the 
"good  old  days."  They  were  talking  about 
the  old  time  dances  when  the  man  of  eighty 
said: 

"Yes,  they  put  on  a  heap  of  airs  at  their 
dances  in  these  times.  They  didn't  use  to 
do  it  when  I  was  a  young  man  sixty  year  ago. 

"I  recollect  when  I  was  a  young  man  about 
sixty  year  ago  or  more  we  used  to  wear  buck- 
skin clothes  and  buckskin  moccasins.  After 
awhile  we  got  to  raising  sheep  there  in  Howard 
county  and  our  mothers  got  to  making  brown 
jeans  suits  for  us  for  Sundays,  weddin's  and 
parties. 

"There  was  a  new  settlement  up  in  Ran- 
dolph county,  and  some  of  us  boys  that  had 
new  jeans  clothes,  concluded  to  go  up  there 
to  a  party.  We  put  on  our  new  clothes  and 
rode  nearly  all  day  to  get  to  the  place  in  the 
new  settlement  where  we  heard  the  party  was 
goin'  to  be.  When  we  got  there  we  found  all 
the  young  fellows  in  the  new  settlement  still 
wearin'  their  buckskins.  We  were  dandies! 
We  jest  cut  a  swath.  The  gals  jest  tuck  to 
us  like  a  young  kitten  to  a  warm  jam,  and 
them  fellers  in  their  buckskin  begun  to  git 
all  fired  mad  an'  we  soon  found  that  we  had 
to  let  up  a  little  or  we  would  get  a  lickin'.  Oh, 
they  jest  considered  that  we  was  dressed  too 
fine  for  anything  and  that  we  was  jest  a  puttin* 


54  OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES 

on  airs  and  they  wasn't  agoin'  to  stand  it. 
I  tell  you  we  had  to  be  powerful  mute  the 
balance  of  the  night  or  we'd  a  cotch  it  shore. 

"About  the  same  time  I  was  makin'  me 
a  fine  pair  of  buckskin  moccasins  to  wear  to 
a  weddin'  that  was  going  to  come  off  in  the 
neighborhood.  I  jest  got  'em  finished  the  day 
the  weddin'  was  to  come  off  and  sot  'em  out 
on  the  kitchen  steps  to  dry.  I'd  used  ruther 
green  hide  in  makin'  'em,  for  I  didn't  have 
time  to  dress  the  hide  as  it  ort  to  have  been 
dressed.  Well,  as  I  said,  they  was  purty  wet 
an'  I  sot  'em  out  in  the  sun  to  dry,  an'  when 
I  come  to  git  'em  they  wasn't  thar.  I  didn't 
know  what  to  make  of  it  and  begun  to  look 
around  and  inquire,  when  lo!  and  behold, 
our  ole  houn'  attracted  my  attention.  We 
had  one  of  those  ole,  lop-eared,  deer  houn's, 
that  was  eveiiasten'ly  hungry.  He  would  eat 
anything  on  top  o'  dirt.  I've  seed  that  ole 
houn'  poke  his  nose  into  a  pot  o'  grease  when 
the  grease  was  hot  enough  to  burn  anything, 
an'  he'd  lap  that  grease  an'  howl  jest  like 
somebody  was  a  beatin'  uv  him.  Well,  sir, 
I  spied  this  ole  houn'  a  walkin'  off  side  ways, 
with  his  sides  potted  out  sorter  onnateral,  an' 
I  begun  to  suspicion  where  my  moccasins 
had  went.  I  cotch  ole  Drum  an'  tuck  him 
to  the  stable  and  tied  a  rope  aroun'  his  hind 
legs  an'  drawed  it  over  a  jiste  and  pulled  him 
up  'till  he  didn't  tetch  the  ground  nowhere; 
an'  I  got  a  swingle  tree  and  let  into  that  dog  like 
a  house  afire.  I  jest  lambaisted  him  for  all 
that  was  out.  Atter  awhile  he  seemed  to  git 
sick,  an'  begun  to  shrug  his  shoulders  an' 
kind  o'  heave.  I  kept  a  fallin'  onto  him  like 


OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES  55 

dead  timber  in  new  groim'  on  a  windy  day, 
and  dad  blame  me  if  he  didn't  throw  up  them 
moccasins! 

"I  tuck  'em  to  the  house  and  looked  'em 
over  and  found  that  he'd  warped  'em  a  leetle; 
but,  he  hadn't  chawed  no  holes  in  'em,  an' 
I  cleaned  'em  up  and  straightened  'em  out 
and  wore  'em  to  the  weddin'!  Yes,  sir,  wore 
'em  and  danced  in  'em,  but  every  time  I  tho't 
of  that  dod  blasted  ole  houn'  I  could  hardly 
keep  from  kickin'  my  partner!" 

The  man  of  sixty  then  took  the  stand: 

"Well,  sir,  when  I  was  a  young  man  forty 
year  ago  or  more  we  used  to  walk  to  church. 
The  preachin'  in  them  days  was  mostly  in 
the  woods,  as  there  was  no  church  buildin's. 
The  gals  most  always  went  barefooted  at 
home  when  the  weather  wasn't  cold,  and  when 
they  went  to  meetin'  they'd  take  their  shoes 
and  stockin's  under  their  arms  'till  they'd 
get  nearly  to  church,  an  '  then  they'd  stop  at 
some  branch  or  hole  o'  water  and  wash  their 
feet  an'  put  their  shoes  an'  stockin's  on.  They 
done  this  in  the  first  place  because  it  hurt 
their  feet  to  keep  their  shoes  on  all  day,  as  they 
wasn't  used  to  it;  an;  then  shoes  wasn't  such 
an  easy  thing  to  get  and  they  didn't  want  to 
wear  'em  out. 

"Well,  long  about  that  time  I  tuck  two 
neighbor  gals  to  a  dance  one  night.  The 
weather  was  gittin'  cool  an'  they  wore  their 
shoes  an'  stockin's  all  the  way.  It  had  rained 
the  day  before  an'  when  we  come  to  a  branch 
that  was  up  we  didn't  hardly  know  what  to 
do.  There  wasn't  any  bridge,  nor  any  log, 
nor  nothin'-  But  we  must  go  to  the  party. 


56 


OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES 


"The  gals  proposed  that  we  all  take  off 
our  shoes  an*  wade.  I  wouldn't  hear  to  their 
wadin,'  so  I  told  'em  if  they'd  ride  on  my 
back  I'd  take  off  my  shoes  an'  socks  an'  carry 
'em  over,  one  at  a  time.  They  was  as  full 
of  fun  as  mule  colts,  an*  after  laughin'  awhile 


"OF  ALL  THE  KICKIN'  AND  SQUEALIN'  YOU  EVER 
HEARD  WE  HAD  IT  THAR." 

they  said  they'd  do  it  jest  for  the  fun  o'  the 
thing. 

"I  pulled  off  my  shoes  an'  socks,  rolled  up 
my  britches  above  my  knees  (the  water  wasn't 
quite  knee  deep)  an'  stooped  down,  an'  the 
oldest  one  of  the  gals  got  on  my  back,  cotch 
me  'roun'  the  neck  with  her  arms  an'  'roun' 
the  sides  with  her  knees,  an'  I  waded  over. 


OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES  57 

"Of  all  the  kickin'  an'  squealin'  that  you 
ever  heard  we  had  it  thar.  When  I  got  into 
the  deepest  of  the  water  I  kind  o'  wobbled  a 
little,  as  if  I  was  about  to  fall,  an'  she'd  clamp 
me  around  the  sides  with  her  knees  an'  squeal, 
an'  it  tickled  me  so  an'  made  me  feel  so  curis 
that  I'll  be  dod  blasted  if  I  could  hardly  keep 
from  kickin'  up  right  thar  in  the  water!  But 
we  got  over  all  safe  an'  sound  and  went  on  to 
the  party.  Nothin'  would  stop  young  folks 
in  them  days  when  thar  was  fun  ahead. 

"Now,  some  people  might  think  that  these 
gals  was  not  what  they'd  ought  to  have  been; 
but  let  me  tell  you  that  they  was  as  true  blue 
as  any  young  women  that  ever  lived.  They 
would  take  a  rifle  an'  help  defend  their  homes 
if  necessary  an'  the  man  who  would  use  any 
insultin'  talk  to  one  of  'em  would  git  a  rap 
in  the  mouth  he  wouldn't  forgit  very  soon." 

The  man  of  forty  then  told  his  story; 

"More  than  twenty  years  ago  (It  is  more 
than  thirty,  now. — AUTHOR.)  I  used  to  go 
to  the  dancing  parties.  I  was  a  wild  young 
imp  then  and  loved  fun,  and  I  would  ride  any 
distance  to  a  dance. 

"Some  young  fellows  had  invited  me  to 
a  party  out  in  "The  Hills,"  as  that  part  of 
the  country  was  called;  and,  as  girls  were 
scarce,  they  insisted  on  my  bringing  my  part- 
ner. Well,  I  made  arrangements  with  a  young 
girl,  about  eighteen,  named  Jennie  Rayburn. 
She  had  auburn  hair  and  was  as  freckled  as 
a  turkey  egg,  but  she  had  more  mischief  in  her 
to  the  square  yard  than  any  girl  I  ever  saw. 
When  the  evening  for  the  party  came  I  went 
by  after  her  and  when  her  mother  found  out 


58  OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES 

what  was  up  she  declared  that  Jennie  shouldn't 
go.  Jennie  got  her  mad  up  and  declared  she 
would.  The  old  lady  sent  one  of  the  boys  out 
and  had  all  the  horses  turned  out,  and,  for 
a  time,  it  seemed  as  if  the  game  was  blocked. 
But  it's  a  hard  matter  to  keep  boys  and  girls 
from  having  their  fun  if  they  are  determined, 
and  so  it  turned  out  in  this  case. 

"I  whispered  to  Jennie: 

"  'Why  can't  you  ride  behind  me?' 

"She  flushed  for  a  moment,  stepped  to 
the  door  of  an  adjoining  room,  and,  looking 
at  me  intently,  nodded  her  head  and  disap- 
peared. In  a  few  minutes  there  was  a  tap  on 
the  window,  near  which  I  was  sitting,  from 
the  outside,  and  I  got  up  and  went  out.  Jennie 
was  there  all  rigged  out  for  the  dance. 

"  'Hurry,'  said  she,  'for  if  mamma  sees  us 
she'll  raise  a  yell.' 

"We  darted  through  the  gate,  I  hastily 
mounted  and  Jennie  jumped  on  the  'stile  block' 
and  in  a  twinkling  she  was  on  behind.  As 
we  disappeared  around  a  curve  in  the  road 
we  heard  the  old  lady's  voice: 

"  'Never  mind,  Missy,  you'll  ketch  it  for 
this.' 

"  Jennie  laughed  a  low,  triumphant  snicker 
and  caught  me  around  the  waist  with  both 
hands.  I  yelled,  for  I  couldn't  stand  it  for  a 
girl  to  touch  me  on  the  sides. 

"  'What's  the  matter  with  you?'  Jennie 
asked. 

"  'You're  ticklin'  me;  catch  higher  up,'  I 
answered,  still  yelling  and  almost  jumping  off. 

"'Why,  do  you  want  me  to  choke  you?' 
she  asked. 


OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES 


59 


"  'Choke  me,  or  do  anything;  but,  for 
heaven's  sake  don't  touch  me  on  the  side!' 

"' You're  a  big  goose,'  said  Jennie. 

"And  in  this  way,  yelling  and  laughing, 
we  went  on — both  so  hilarious  over  our  vic- 
tory and  the  prospects  before  us  that  we  could 
scarcely  contain  ourselves. 


"I  COULD  HEAR  THE  ROOTS  OF  OLD  BESS'S  TAIL 
BEGIN  TO  CRACK." 

"After  a  while  we  came  to  an  immensely 
long,  steep  hill  which  led  down  to  a  branch, 
and  there  was  another  hill  just  like  it  on  the 
other  side.  After  we  had  started  down,  both 
of  us  began  to  slip  forward,  and,  almost  before 
I  knew  it,  I  felt  as  if  we  were  going  over  the 
old  mare's  head.  I  turned  the  mare  crossways 


60  OLD  TIME  DANCES  AND  PARTIES 

of  the  road  and  stopped.  I  was  puzzled  to 
know  what  to  do.  I  was  riding  a  large,  fine 
mare  of  my  father's,  and  she  had  a  tail  that 
almost  touched  the  ground.  A  bright  idea 
struck  me.  I  told  Jennie  to  reach  back  and 
hand  me  old  Bess's  tail.  Jennie  scrambled 
back,  and  reached  for  the  tail.  The  old  mare 
begun  to  squat,  but  with  a  few  words  from 
me,  she  quieted  down  and,  pretty  soon,  Jennie 
handed  me  the  tail.  I  made  her  put  it  over 
her  shoulder  and  I  pulled  it  over  mine  and 
took  the  end  of  it  in  my  left  hand.  We  went 
on  down  the  hill  then  in  perfect  safety  and 
in  some  of  the  steeper  places,  I  swear  I  could 
hear  the  roots  of  old  Bess's  tail  begin  to  crack, 
and  I  was  really  afraid  that  we  would  pull 
it  out!  When  we  went  up  the  hill  on  the  other 
side  we  still  held  on  to  the  tail  and,  before  we 
got  to  the  top,  Jennie  slipped  back  into  the 
bow  formed  by  the  bending  of  the  tail.  When 
we  got  to  the  top  she  clambered  up  on  to  her 
seat  again  and  we  went  on  to  the  party  in 
triumph.  We  had  a  royal  time  and,  as  we 
came  back,  we  repeated  our  process  of  the 
night  before  at  the  hill.  I  dumped  Jennie 
off  at  her  home,  and  don't  think  she  ever 
'ketched'  anything  worse  than  her  mother's 
jaw." 

"And  did  you  kiss  her?"  asked  the  octo- 
genarian. 

"Union  Depot!  Kansas  City,"  shouted  the 
porter,  and  as  the  party  broke  up,  I  heard  the 
man  of  forty  say, 

"Oh,  may  be  I  didn't;   Yum!  Yum!  Yum!" 


CHAPTER  IV 


GOOD  FELLOWSHIP  AND  HOSPITALITY — EFFECTS 
OF  CIVILIZATION — DANCING  PARTIES — A  CON- 
SPIRACY AND  WHAT  CAME  OF  IT — TOM'S 
APPETITE  WORKS  HAVOC — WEDDINGS — THE 
PREACHER'S  TWO  STORIES 

It  is  some- 
thing remark- 
able what 
good  fellow- 
ship existed 
between  the 
neighbors  in 
I  those  good  old 
days.  I  have 
spoken  of  the 
clearings,  the 
log  rollings, 
house  and 
barn  raisings,  and  tobacco  strip'pings.  Every 
settler  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  go  to  his 
neighbor's  assistance  on  all  such  occasions, 
and  he  very  reasonably  expected  a  return,  in 
like  assistance,  from  his  neighbor,  when  he 
had  anything  to  be  done  which  required  the 
help  of  others.  I  have  known  men  to  go 
fifteen  or  twenty  miles  to  one  of  those  gather- 
ings and  then  ride  home  in  the  dusk  of  the 
evening,  unless  they  remained  to  the  dance 


62     CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS 

which  almost  invariably  followed  the  work  of 
the  day. 

Nobody  had  locks  on  their  doors  and  it  was 
a  most  common  occurrence  for  a  neighbor 
who  desired  to  borrow  meal,  meat,  tools  or 
anything  which  he  wanted,  on  finding  the 
family  away  from  home,  to  enter,  take  what 
he  desired  and  inform  the  family  of  what  he 
had  done  the  next  time  he  saw  any  of  them. 

Here  is  a  most  ludicrous  incident  illustra- 
tive of  this  perfect  confidence  which  existed 
between  neighbors.  The  incident  is  true,  for 
the  writer  knows  the  names  of  both  parties 
to  it. 

A  pioneer  was  awakened  one  night  by  some 
one  entering  his  house,  and  who  seemed  to 
be  fumbling  around  as  if  in  search  of  some- 
thing. 

"Hello!    who  is  that?"  he  asked. 

"It's  me,  John,"  answered  the  intruder, 
revealing  the  familiar  voice  of  a  near  neigh- 
bor, "Im  out  o'  tobacker;  ain't  had  a  chaw 
sense  dinner,  an'  I  jest  couldn't  go  to  sleep 
without  some.  I  tho't,  mebbe,  I  might  find 
your  britches  without  waking  you  up." 

"They  are  over  thar  on  a  cheer  at  the  foot 
of  the  bed,"  said  John,  who  turned  over  and 
was  snoring  so  loud  in  a  few  minutes  that  he 
didn't  hear  the  "good  night"  of  his  neighbor 
as  he  went  away  with  enough  "tobacker"  to 
do  him  a  day  or  two. 

This  perfect  confidence  between  neighbors 
does  not  now  exist  in  the  older  settled  or  so- 
called  more  civilized  parts  of  our  country. 
It  is  civilization  that  makes  locks  and  bolts 
necessary.  It  is  education  which  makes  man 


CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS     63 

suspect  his  fellow  man;  in  other  words,  it  is 
the  crowded  condition  of  the  older  communi- 
ties— where  education,  refinement  and  knowl- 
edge have  entered — where  wealth  has  accu- 
mulated in  the  hands  of  the  few,  and  want  and 
desire  have  come  to  the  many,  that  the  burglar, 
the  midnight  prowler,  the  tramp  and  the  dan- 
gerous men  generally  make  it  necessary  for 
us  to  put  bolts  and  bars  on  our  doors. 

In  the  dancing  parties,  before  described, 
everybody  took  a  part — the  old,  the  middle- 
aged,  and  even  the  young  children.  It  was 
a  common  thing,  however,  for  the  grown  up 
young  men  and  women  to  monopolize  most 
of  this  exhilarating  enjoyment. 

I  remember  that,  at  about  the  time  that 
I  was  fourteen  years  of  age,  there  arose  a 
feeling  of  great  indignation  and  resentment 
amongst  the  young  boys  against  the  "grown 
up  chaps,"  for  occupying  the  floor  so  much 
at  the  parties,  and  more  especially  on  account 
of  the  fact  that  they  occupied  the  time  of  the 
grown  young  ladies  when  not  dancing,  so 
that  we  could  not  secure  them  for  partners 
when  we  danced.  This  forced  us  to  dance 
with  the  little  girls,  which  we  did  not  like  to  do. 

If  there  is  anything  that  a  big  boy  likes 
it  is  to  gain  the  attentions  and  smiles  of.  a 
grown  young  lady;  and  if  there  is  anything 
which  seems  to  bore  a  grown  young  lady  more 
than  another  it  is  to  be  compelled,  out  of  cour- 
tesy or  friendship  to  the  family,  to  lavish  atten- 
tions and  smiles  on  a  big  boy.  Young  ladies 
naturally  like  young  men — the  fellows  with 
beards  and  moustaches.  This  has,  no  doubt, 
been  observed  by  the  reader. 


64     CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS 

We  protested  against  this  unwarranted  abuse 
of  power,  by  the  young  men;  but  they  laughed 
at  us,  called  us  trundle  bed  militia  and  other 
harrowing  nicknames,  which  increased  our 
anger  but  did  not  relieve  our  wants.  The 
matter  grew  so  bad  that  we  became  satisfied 
that  there  was  a  combination — a  sort  of  con- 
spiracy or  trust — against  us  and  we  cudgeled 
our  brains  to  find  some  means  by  which  to 
break  the  combination. 

We  finally  settled  on  a  plan.  Our  plan 
was  the  result  of  our  knowledge  of  the 
fact  that  all  the  girls,  large  and  small,  loved 
candy. 

Candy  was  a  scarce  article  in  those  days 
and,  if  I  remember  aright,  was  quite  costly. 
It  was  something  which  was  not  often  seen, 
and'  when  seen,  it  was  grabbed  and  eaten 
with  a  greedy  relish  by  the  big  girls. 

At  a  large  tobacco  stripping,  which  was 
to  be  followed  by  the  greatest  dance  of  the 
season,  "our  set"  got  together  at  noon  and 
formed  our  plans.  Two  of  our  number  were 
to  secretly  slip  away  during  the  afternoon, 
mount  their  horses  and  ride  five  miles  to  the 
county  seat  and  procure  about  three  pounds 
of  candy  and  "kisses,"  and — a  quart  oj  whisky  I 
This  latter  we  deemed  necessary  to  bring  our 
courage  up  to  the  point  of  making  the  grand 
assault  all  along  the  enemy's  lines. 

For  the  purpose  of  the  purchase  of  these 
articles  each  "trundle  bed  militiaman"  put 
in  his  share  of  money.  Of  the  two  who  were 
delegated  to  this  important  and  delicate  ser- 
vice one  was  the  son  of  a  widow  woman  and 
would  not  therefore  be  whipped  for  his  ab- 


CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS    65 

sence;  the  other  was  a  queer  compound  of 
humanity  named  Tom. 

Tom  was  eighteen  or  nineteen  years  old, 
but  was  beardless  and,  not  being  able  to  reach 
up  into  the  set  above,  had,  by  the  laws  of 
gravitation,  fallen  back  into  our  set.  You  will 
see  these  fellows  everywhere  in  all  grades  and 
conditions  of  society.  From  some  cause  or 
another  they  can  not  enter  the  class  to  which 
their  age  entitles  them  and  they  drop  back 
and  run  with  boys  three  or  four  years  younger 
than  themselves.  They  are  social  Ishmaelites 
who  are  abandoned,  and  often  no  one  could 
explain  why. 

Tom  always  had  his  appetite  with  him. 
He  was  a  walking  allegory  of  hunger.  I  never 
saw  Tom  when  he  could  not  eat.  I  have  seen 
him  eat  through  two  or  three  tables  at  a  log 
rolling;  and,  after  doing  so,  he  could  get  up 
and  walk  around  the  house  and  "shake  his 
dinner  down,"  as  he  expressed  it,  and  then 
eat  a  dozen  apples.  It  was  currently  believed  in 
the  neighborhood  that  Tom's  legs  were  hollow! 

Well,  these  messengers  slipped  away  and 
there  being  so  many  to  do  the  work,  they  were 
not  missed.  After  a  few  hours  we  peered 
anxiously  through  the  cracks  'of  the  barn, 
watching  for  their  return.  There  had  been 
a  solemn  agreement  made  that  we  were  not 
to  give  any  "big  girl"  any  candy  until  she  had 
promised  to  dance  with  us.  We  were  exulting 
over  the  fact  that  we  would  surely  win  a  great 
victory  and  that,  for  once,  we  would  not  be 
horned  off  by  the  larger  cattle. 

Dusk  came  on  and  they  did  not  return. 
The  work  of  the  da^  was  drawing  to  a  close. 


66     CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS 

The  old  men  were  "bulking  down"  the  tobacco 
and  the  small  boys  (our  set)  were  carrying  it 
to  them.  The  yo.ung  men  repaired  to  the 
house,  took  the  quilt  out  of  the  frames,  or 
wound  it  up,  removed  the  bed  and  other 
things  that  offered  obstructions  to  a  full 
enjoyment  of  the  evening,  and  prepared  for 
the  dance. 

Our  work  finished  we  sent  a  part  of  our 
number  down  the  road  with  the  hope  of  meet- 
ing Jim  and  Tom.  But  they  came  not.  We 
grew  anxious.  What  could  have  happened? 
More  than  time  enough  had  elapsed  for  their 
return.  Why  did  they  not  come? 

The  music  struck  up  and  I  left  the  boys 
in  the  yard,  still  in  serious  consultation,  and 
went  into  the  house.  There  was  a  set  on  the 
floor,  the  music  was  excellent,  everybody  was 
fresh  and  in  a  great  flow  of  spirits  and  the 
enjoyment  was  great. 

Music  always  had  a  peculiar  and  wonderful 
influence  over  me.  I  never  hear  good  music 
without  feeling  that  I  am  possessed  with  wings! 
From  the  great  depression  and  heart- ache 
under  which  I  had  been  laboring  in  consequence 
of  the  non-return  of  our  messengers  there  had 
succeeded  a  pleasant  reaction.  The  music 
had  caused  it.  I  was  standing  by  the  door, 
tapping  one  heel  on  the  floor,  keeping  time 
to  the  music,  and  feeling  that,  as  the  candy 
had  not  come,  I  might  as  well  secure  a  partner 
and  go  in  in  the  next  «et  and  thereby  break 
the  compact. 

A  neighbor  boy  came  and  stood  in  the  moon- 
light, just  outside  the  door,  and  beckoned 
me  to  come  out.  I  was  spellbound  by  the 


CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS    67 

music  and  the  exhilarating  dance,  and  did 
not  move.  I  asked: 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"Come  out  here,"  said  he,  with  a  gesture 
by  which  he  seemed  to  intend  to  move  me. 

"Well,  what  do  you  want?"  I  asked  again, 
still  being  unable  to  get  out  of  the  current  of 
the  music,  which  enthralled  me. 

"Come  out  here  and  I'll  tell  you!"  he  in- 
sisted, still  gesticulating  vehemently. 

Thinking  there  might  be  news,  I  went  out. 

"What's  up?"  I  asked,  as  we  walked 
around  the  house  toward  the  front  gate. 

"Wait  and  I'll  tell  you,"  said  he,  still  lead- 
ing on  toward  the  gate. 

Arriving  at  the  front  gate  we  found  our 
set,  grouped  together,  and,  standing  a  little 
apart,  was  Jim  whittling  on  a  stick,  and  near 
him  was  the  tall  and  imposing  form  of  Tom. 
Tom  was  tall,  a  little  stooped  and  of  a  very 
"yaller"  complexion.  The  moon  was  shining 
brightly,  and  the  figures  were  as  distinctly 
outlined,  as  motionless  and  as  silent  as  a  group- 
ing of  statuary.  There  was  an  air  of  glum- 
ness  which  hung  over  the  group  that  made 
one  almost  afraid  to  speak.  I  saw  at  once 
that  something  was  wrong.  I  managed  to  ask : 

"What's  the  matter,  boys?" 

The  boy  who  had  called  me  out  then  spoke: 

"Don't  you  think  that  Tom  has  gone  and 
drunk  up  all  the  whisky  and  then  eat  all  the 
candy?" 

Great  Scott!    could  this  be  true? 

"Is  that  so,  Tom?"  I  managed  to  in- 
quire, after  I  had  swallowed  my  heart  about 
the  third  time. 


68     CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS 

I  forgot  to  say  that  Tom  was  an  inveterate 
stammerer  and  nearly  always  prefaced  what 
he  was  going  to  say  by  saying — "b-b-by  goney." 

"Is  that  so,  Tom?" 

"T-t-t-hat's  w-w-hat  they  s-say,"  Tom 
answered. 

"Well,  what  do  you  say?"  I  asked  with 
some  anger. 

"I-I-I  g-g-ess  it's  so,"  said  Tom  with  humil- 
iation. 

In  all  my  life  I  never  saw  a  more  dependent, 
humiliated  and  miserable  looking  object.  He 
was  a  very  monument  of  despair.  He  actually 
looked  hungry!  I  knew  why  the  boys  had 
sent  for  me.  I  generally  did  the  talking  for 
the  crowd.  They  wanted  me  to  express  their 
sentiments,  and  I  did.  I  turned  myself  loose 
on  Tom.  I  denounced  him  as  a  dog,  a  glutton, 
and  all  the  mean  things  that  my  limited  vocabu- 
lary could  furnish.  I  "cussed  him  up  one 
side  and  down  the  other."  I  was  safe  in  doing 
so  then;  but,  if  Tom  had  had  me  away  from 
that  crowd  he  would  have  spiked  my  guns 
in  short  order.  He  was  physically  able  to 
do  it. 

I  then  turned  to  Jim: 

"How  much  candy  did  you  buy?"  I  asked. 

" Three  pounds,"  Jim  answered. 

"Well,  why  did  you  let  him  eat  it?" 

"Well,  Tom  drank  all  the  whisky,"  said 
Jim,  "an'  got  drunk,  an*  he  first  ate  all  the 
candy  he  had  an'  then  he  kept  ridin'  up  and 
takin'  out  of  my  overcoat  pockets  what  I  had. 
We  was  a  laughin'  and  tearin'  around  an' 
hittin'  each  other  an'  I  didn't  hardly  think  about 
it  until  it  was  all  gone." 


CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS    69 

There  was  a  pause.  Tom  still  stood  humped 
up,  in  his  deeply  humiliated  position,  looking 
as  if  it  were  a  question  as  to  whether  he  would 
drop  through  the  earth  or  quietly  dissolve. 
I  broke  the  silence  again  by  asking  in  great 
desperation : 


"I-I-rVE  G-GOT  PL-PL-PLENTY  OF  THE 
R-R-READIN'S  LEFT." 

"Well,  Tom,  haven't  you  got  any  of  the 
candy  left?" 

Tom  straightened  himself  up  and  there 
came  a  gleam  of  partial  relief  over  his  coun- 
tenance, as  he  answered: 


"NO'O,  I  hain't  got  no  c-candy,  b-b-but, 
b-b-by  goney,  it  a-a-ain't  as  b-bad  as  you 
th-th-think,  f-for — I-I-I've  g-got  pl-pl-plenty 
of  the  r-r-readin's  left!" 

He  here  ran  his  fingers  into  his  vest  pocket 
and  produced  a  handful  of  the  verses  of  poetry 
which,  in  those  days,  were  wrapped  around 
the  candy  kisses.  We  indignantly  refused  to 
take  any  of  the  "readin's." 

Tom  promised  that,  if  we  would  not  abuse 
him  any  more,  he  would  pay  us  our  money 
back;  and  he  did,  though  it  took  him  nearly 
a  year  to  do  it. 

Tom  was  a  great  hunter  and  a  splendid 
shot  and  he  could  track  game  almost  by  the 
scent.  When  Tom  went  hunting  there  was 
sure  to  be  fresh  meat  in  the  house.  He  went 
to  California  and  the  last  time  I  heard  of 
him  a  friend — one  of  "our  set" — met  him 
dragging  a  grizzly  bear  down  a  mountain. 

"And  did  they  get  married  in  those  old 
times?" 

Yes,  reader,  more  than  to-day;  that  is,  the 
proportion  of  marriages  to  the  marriageable 
population  was  greater  than  to-day — and  the 
number  who  lived  to  be  old  bachelors  and 
old  maids  was  very  few. 

It  did  not  take  money  to  marry  in  those 
days.  If  they  only  loved,  that  was  enough. 
They  trusted  to  Providence  for  the  rest.  Young 
men  and  women  married  when  neither  had 
a  dollar. 

A  piece  of  land  would  be  given  them  by 
either  his  or  her  parents;  or,  if  they  had  none 
to  give,  then  the  young  man  would  settle  on 
a  piece  of  Government  land,  trusting  to  be 


CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS    71 

able  to  enter  it  in  time;  a  house  raising  would 
be  had  and  with  the  scanty  start  in  house- 
keeping utensils  which  parents  and  relatives 
would  give  they  would  "set  up  house- 
keeping." 

This  was  the  "love  in  a  cottage"  which  we 
have  all  read  about,  and  which  few  of  those 
who  read  this  could  really  appreciate  or  even 
tolerate.  Such  a  life  could  only  be  appreciated 
by  those  whose  manner  of  life  had  prepared 
them  to  so  live. 

But  they  loved  each  other,  no  doubt,  as 
dearly  as  those  do  who  have  been  more  for- 
tunate in  opportunities,  wealth,  education, 
and  endowed  in  all  the  good  things  which  are 
presumed  to  make  life  worth  living. 

There  was  more  virtue  amongst  men  and 
women  than  there  is  now;  and  such  a  thing 
as  a  man  running  off  with  another  man's  wife, 
or  entering  into  his  house  and  alienating  the 
affections  of  his  wife  from  him  and  destroying 
his  domestic  peace,  was  unheard  of.  The 
intrigues,  the  jealousies,  the  hatreds,  the  scorn, 
the  lies  and  the  scandals  amongst  the  educated 
and  wealthy  "upper  ten"  in  our  modern 
society  were  unknown  then.. 

"Well,  then,  do  riches,  education,  society 
and  all  the  goodly  endowments,  which  wealth 
and  opportunity  bringx  tend  to  make  men  and 
women  happier  and  to  better  prepare  them 
for  a  safe  entrance  into  Heaven?" 

It  depends  on  how  we  use  these  things. 
The  opportunities  for  doing  good  and  being 
good,  and  for  setting  good,  pure  and  noble 
examples  for  others,  increase  and  multiply, 
a,s  wealth  and  education  broaden  our  sphere; 


72     CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS 

but,  alas!  how  few  make  good  use  of  such 
opportunities! 

I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  when  you  and 
I  are  called  upon  to  "Come  up  Higher,"  dear 
reader,  we  shall  find  many  who  were  poor  and 
humble  here,  whose  opportunities  were  few, 
but  who  humbly  and  honestly  did  the  best 
they  could,  according  to  their  light,  occupying 
high  places;  and  that  we  shall  miss  many  who, 
while  they  always  had  the  best  places  here, 
utterly  neglected  and  failed  to  secure  seats  in  the 
Everlasting  Kingdom. 

"Then  you  think  it  safer  to  remain  poor 
than  be  rich  and  risk  the  consequences?" 

I  think  it  better  to  be  rich  and  use  it  and 
the  opportunities  it  brings,  well.  But,  if  you 
think  you  could  not  withstand  the  strain,  then 
you  had  better  remain  poor  with  me.  Con- 
tentment, in  reasonable  poverty,  is  a  very 
happy  and  a  reasonably  safe  lot. 

"And  were  the  brides  in  those  old  times 
pretty?" 

Yes,  always  pretty;  pretty  as  they  are 
now.  Did  my  reader  ever  see  a  woman  who 
was  not  pretty  on  the  day  she  was  married? 
I  never  did.  They  all  have  the  same  match- 
less complexion;  the  same  soft,  sparkling  eye, 
the  same  drooping  lashes  and  modest  demeanor, 
and  always  seeming  to  know  what  is  the  cor- 
rect thing  to  do  at  any  hitch  in  the  ceremony, 
or  at  the  happening  of  any  accident  or  any 
unlocked  for  occurrence.  Aye,  a  woman  is 
always  at  her  best  on  the  day  she  gets  married. 

I  never  saw  a  woman  get  married  who  I 
thought  was  selling  herself  for  money;  but  I 
imagine  that  she  would  net  look  pretty.  It  will 


CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS    73 

be  surmised  that  I  have  not,  therefore,  seen 
many  "weddings  in  high  life." 

That  is  true.     I  have  not. 

The  weddings  in  the  old  pioneer  days  were 
great  affairs.  A  runner  was  sent  on  horseback, 
many  days  before,  to  invite  the  neighbors. 
This  invitation  often  extended  over  a  large 
area  of  country.  When  the  wedding  day 
came  the  neighbors  came,  men,  women,  and 
children.  The  ceremony  being  over  the  din- 
ner was  ready.  The  elders  came  first,  the 
young  men  and  women  next,  the  children  last 
— for  there  were  often  enough  for  four  or  five 
tables.  At  night  the  dance,  and  the  court- 
ing and  the  foundation  for  more  weddings. 

These  weddings  were  solemn  affairs,  for 
those  people  looked  upon  this  great  step  in 
life  as  being  freighted  with  great  responsi- 
bilities. It  was  not  often  that  anything  ludi- 
crous occurred.  I  have  heard  of  a  few.  A 
prominent  minister — a  great  man  in  the  relig- 
ious denomination  to  which  he  belongs,  and 
one  of  the  brainiest,  purest,  and  best  men  I 
ever  knew,  and  who  in  his  younger  days  was 
identified  with  the  old  pioneers — told  me  the 
following : 

I  had  just  returned  from-  college  forty 
years  ago  and  began  to  preach.  Although 
college  bred  I  was  yet  green,  as  a  preacher, 
and,  I  think,  about  as  bashful  a  young  man 
as  ever  lived.  In  order  the  better  to  get  at 
the  principles  as  we  expounded  them,  I  travelled 
with  a  great  revivalist — Brother  H.,  that  I 
might  hear  him  preach  and  take  a  part  occa- 
sionally so  as  to  better  prepare  me  for  the  life 
of  a  preacher.  Brother  H.  was  a  great  man 


74     CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS 

amongst  the  people.  He  was  a  strong  man 
naturally,  and  wielded  great  influence  as  an 
orator  and  an  exhorter. 

We  had  been  holding  a  protracted  meeting 
over  in  Illinois.  That  was  also  a  newly  set- 
tled country  and  its  population  was  much 
like  that  of  Missouri. 

There  were  many  additions  to  the  church, 
and  finally  the  meeting  closed.  Our  meeting 
was  in  a  small  town  and  on  the  day  it  ceased 
a  messenger  came  saying  that  there  was  a 
couple  who  wished  to  be  married.  They  had 
intended  to  be  married  a  week  hence,  but  as 
they  were  anxious  to  be  married  by  "the  big 
preacher,"  they  had  decided  to  have  it  come 
off  at  once  as  Brother  H.  and  I  were  to  leave 
that  morning.  Brother  H.  took  me  along. 

We  found  the  family  of  the  bride  living  in 
a  house  which  had  been  built  for  a  hotel. 
We  were  invited  into  the  parlor,  which  was 
the  room  that  had  been  the  office  of  the  hotel. 
The  mother  of  the  bride  came  in.  She  was 
a  large  woman,  with  a  firm  set  mouth  and  a 
very  commanding,  bossy  mien.  I  was  afraid 
of  her  the  moment  I  saw  her.  She  eyed  me 
very  sharply  for  awhile  and  then  asked: 

"Are  you  a  married  man?" 

I  answered  that  I  was  not. 

"I  thought  so,"  said  she,  and  added,  "I 
want  you  to  walk  down  with  one  of  my  gals.'* 

1  assented,  and  ordering  me  to  follow  her 
?he  went  up  a  steep  and  narrow  flight  of  stairs. 
When  we  arrived  at  the  top  we  were  in  a  long 
kail  with  rooms  on  either  side.  She  led  the 
way  down  this  hall  until  she  got  opposite  a, 
Certain  room,  the  d,oo,r  of.  which  she  opened ^ 


CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS    75 

then,  motioning  me  to  approach,  she  put  her 
hand    between    my    shoulders    and    literally 
shoved  me  in,  saying  as  she  did  so, 

"There,  they  are  in  there!"  and  then  she 
shut  the  door  and  disappeared. 

This  was  all  the  introduction  I  had.  I 
found  myself  confronting  the  bridegroom,  who 
was  a  great,  big,  hulk  of  a  fellow,  and  three 
or  four  young  girls — one  of  whom,  from  her 
attire,  I  recognized  as  the  bride — all  of  whom 
were  engaged  in  the  very  embarrassing  task 
of  putting  very  small  gloves  on  very  large 
hands.  They  looked  abashed;  I  certainly  felt 
so.  I  finally  stammered  out  that  "I  believe 
I  am  to  walk  down  with  one  of  the  young 
ladies,"  whereupon  the  one  nearest  to  me 
sidled  over  and  I  offered  her  my  arm,  which 
she  took.  Everybody  stood  in  confusion  and 
I  finally  said  "I  guess  we  might  as  well  go 
down  if  you  are  ready."  At  this  there  was  a 
sort  of  general  move,  and  knowing  that  the 
young  lady  and  I  should  go  first,  I  promptly 
took  the  lead.  The  awkward  bridegroom, 
with  his  bride  on  his  arm,  seemed  to  think 
that  they  ought  to  be  in  the  lead  and  made 
several  desperate  attempts  to  pass  me  in  the 
hall  and  on  the  stairway,  but  I  managed,  by 
skillful  maneuvering,  to  keep  ahead.  Arriv- 
ing in  the  parlor  the  young  lady  and  I  separated 
to  the  right  and  left  and  faced  each  other, 
which  brought  the  bride  and  groom  in  the  proper 
position  in  front  of  the  preacher,  who  had  taken 
a  position  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room 
when  he  heard  us  scrambling  down  stairs. 

The  ceremony  was  soon  ended,  and  when 
the  short  congratulations  and  kissing  were 


76    CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS 

over,  the  old  lady  rushed  up  to  me  and  said 
in  a  sharp,  loud  tone: 

"I  tho't  I  told  you  to  walk  down  with 
my  darter,  Samantha!" 

"Well,  didn't  I?'"  I  asked  in  confusion. 


"I  THO'T  I  TOLD  YOU  TO  WALK  DOWN  WITH  MY 
DARTER.  SAMANTHA." 

"No,  you  didn't.  That  was  'Manda 
Brown  you  walked  down  with!  I  never  seed 
such  a  goose  as  you  are!" 

I  do  not  think  that  I  was  ever  so  confused, 
before  or  since,  in  my  whole  life.  I  was  as 
red  as  a  beet,  my  head  swam,  things  turned 
'round,  and  'round,  my  mouth  got  dry  and 
I  was  almost  blind.  You  could  have  pushed 
me  over  with  a  straw. 


CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS    77 

I  could  see  that  Brother  H.  was  ready  to 
burst  with  merriment,  and,  as  soon  as  we  got 
away,  he  began  to  laugh  and  repeat  what  the 
old  lady  had  said. 

As  we  would  ride  along  during  the  day,  when 
the  conversation  would  lag,  he  would  break  out. 

"I  tho't  I  told  you  to  walk  down  with 
my  darter,  Samantha!"  and  then  he  would 
make  the  woods  ring  with  laughter. 

When  we  would  stop  for  dinner  or  over 
night  Brother  H.  was  sure  to  describe  the 
wedding  scene,  repeat  the  old  lady's  sharp 
reproof  of  myself  and  my  confused  and  bash- 
ful response,  and  describe  my  meek  and 
humble  appearance,  magnifying  everything — 
for  he  was  an  inimitable  actor — to  the  great 
delight  of  the  jolly  people  whom  we  met, 
and  to  my  utter  confusion.  It  really  got  so 
that  I  was  afraid  to  stop  anywhere. 

The  repetitions  of  the  story  with  the  varied 
descriptions  of  my  awkward  confusion  worried 
and  plagued  me  beyond  description.  But  I 
was  destined  to  get  even. 

We  finally  held  a  protracted  meeting  near 
Rocheport,  in  Boone  county,  Missouri.  I 
was  opening  the  meetings  by  reading  and 
prayer,  and,  occasionally,  adding  a  word  by 
way  of  exhortation  after'  Brother  H.  would 
get  through;  and,  for  a  bashful  young  man, 
was  getting  along  very  well,  except  at  night. 
As  we  would  go  to  a  new  place  almost  every 
night — that  country  containing  many  of  our 
denomination — I  had  to  sit  and  hear  Brother 
H.  repeat  that  same  old  story. 

Right  in  the  midst  of  our  meeting  Brother 
H.  had  a  call  to  marry  a  couple  in  the  neigh- 


78     CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS 

borhood — a  widower  and  an  old  maid.  They 
had  decided  to  have  the  wedding  with  a  few 
witnesses  in  the  forenoon.  I  was  almost  afraid 
to  go — fearing  that  Brother  H.  would  manage 
to  get  me  into  trouble  again;  but  I  was  Brother 
H.'s  Sancho  Panza  and  must  go. 

When  we  arrived  we  found  the  widower 
to  be  a  man  of  about  fifty.  He  was  one  of  those 
little,  red,  "sawed  off,"  bow  legged  and  frisky 
fellows.  His  face  was  as  red  as  a  gobbler's 
snout;  he  was  bald-headed — the  only  hair  he 
had  being  a  red  wisp  which  ran  around  his 
head  on  a  level  with  his  ears,  and  it  looked 
like  corn  silks  fastened  to  a  string  and  tied 
around  his  head. 

It  was  evident  that  the  widower  had  taken 
something  stronger  than  water,  in  order  to 
bolster  up  his  courage  for  the  second  trying 
ordeal  of  his  life. 

When  we  got  into  the  house  and  every- 
body seemed  ready  for  the  ceremony,  it  turned 
out  that  the  old  maid  was  parching  coffee  in 
the  kitchen  and  couldn't  be  persuaded  to  leave 
it  until  it  was  browned,  as  she  feared  it  would 
burn.  Several  trips  were  made  to  the  kitchen 
by  different  members  of  the  family  and  by 
the  bridegroom,  but  no  one  could  persuade 
this  female  Casabianca  to  desert  her  post 
until  the  coffee  was  browned.  The  pause 
was  very  awkward,  but  she  came  finally — 
removing  a  large  cook  apron  and  throwing  it 
aside  as  she  approached.  She  had  not  put  on 
any  unusual  dress  for  the  occasion,  and, 
although  this  was  the  first  and,  perhaps,  the 
only  time  she  was  ever  married,  she  treated 
it  as  a  sort  of  a  matter  of  every  day  business. 


(CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS    79 

They  finally  stood  up.  Brother  H.  had  a 
fashion  of  putting  his  hands  up  before  him 
and  joining  his  fingers  and  thumbs  and  pray- 
ing a  very  pretty  prayer  before  he  said  the 
marriage  ceremony  proper.  He  did  so  on 
this  occasion;  and,  as  soon  as  the  prayer  ended, 
the  widower,  thinking  the  ceremony  was  over, 
made  a  dive  at  the  bride  to  kiss  her.  She, 
probably  never  having  been  kissed  before, 
tried  to  play  the  giddy,  bashful  girl,  and 
ducked.  The  widower  was  not  going  to  be 
cheated,  so  he  went  down  after  her  face — 
she  dodging  and  ducking  while  the  widower's 
face  grew  redder  and  redder.  Several  times 
his  lips  came  in  contact  with  her  hair,  and 
once  or  twice  he  had  her  head  under  his  arm, 
and  it  looked  as  if  victory  was  about  to  perch 
upon  his  scarlet  banner,  but  the  giddy  old 
maid  would  adroitly  foil  him.  Here  they 
had  it,  'round  and  'round,  up  and  down, 
when  finally  she  broke  away  and  made  for 
the  kitchen,  he  after  her. 

All  this  time  Brother  H.  had  stood  with 
his  fingers  and  thumbs  joined,  in  the  attitude 
of  prayer,  watching  the  confused  scramble 
after  a  kiss,  being  so  utterly  confused  that 
he  could  not  call  a  halt  nor  make  any  sort  of 
explanation.  I  remember1  that  I  was  so  con- 
vulsed that  I  crammed  my  handkerchief  in 
my  mouth  and  fell  face  foremost  on  a  feather 
bed  which  was  in  the  room.  As  the  old  maid 
started  for  the  kitchen  with  the  widower  in 
hot  pursuit  Brother  H.  recovered  his  speech 
and  bawled  after  them: 

"Ah-h-h-h!  Come  back;  you  are  not  mar- 
ried!" 


80      CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS 

In  a  short  time  the  widower  returned,  lead- 
ing the  old  maid  captive,  and  Brother  H. 
finished  the  ceremony.  As  soon  as  he  had 
done  so  the  widower  made  another  dive,  the 
blushing  bride  ducked,  there  was  another 
confused  scramble,  twisting,  diving,  ducking, 
dodging  and,  they  went  out  at  the  door  toward 


AH-H-H!  COME  BACK;  YOU  ARE  NOT  MARRIED!" 

the  kitchen  again  in  a  winding,  whirling,  con- 
fused mass,  the  old  widower's  head  bobbing 
up  and  down  like  a  toy  ballon  in  a  shifting 
wind.  When  they  reached  the  kitchen  we 
could  hear  the  rattling  and  ringing  of  tongs, 
shovels,  pots,  pans  and  kettles,  as  they  were 
being  turned  over  or  knocked  down  in  the 
scramble.  Finally  the  noise  ceased,  and  there 


CIVILIZATION  AND  PIONEER  WEDDINGS     81 

came  a  low,  sobbing  sound,  oft  repeated, 
like  the  wash  of  a  wave  against  a  muddy  shore, 
interspersed  with  an  occasional  sharp  sound, 
like  ripping  a  yard  of  heavy  muslin.  The 
old  maid  had  yielded  and  the  widower  was 
just  drinking  kisses. 

Brother  H.  and  I  took  our  departure.  As 
soon  as  we  were  out  of  ear  shot  of  the  house 
I  looked  at  him  and,  putting  my  hands  together 
before  me,  I  exclaimed: 

"Ah-h-h!  Come  back;  you  are  not  mar- 
ried!" 

Brother  H.  reddened  visibly,  and,  after 
laughing  heartily,  he  said: 

"Look  here,  Brother  P.,  I  guess  I  have 
worried  you  enough  about  the  old  lady's 
rebuke  over  in  Illinois.  Now,  I  will  tell  you 
what  I  will  do;  if  you  will  agree  not  to  tell 
this  I  will  riot  tell  that  story  on  you  again." 
I  was  glad  to  make  the  agreement,  for  I 
couldn't  tell  a  story  as  well  as  Brother  H., 
and  so  we  kept  our  word. 


CHAPTER  V 

PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE 

INFLUENCE     OF     EDUCATION     ON     THE     CONFOR- 
MATION OF  THE  BODY;  SOME  SPECIMENS — 

STORY  OF  THE  OLD  LINEN  COAT  AND  THE 
MASONIC  MARCH — COL.  JACK'S  STORY  OF 
HIS  ONLY  LOVE. 

H  E  peculiari- 
ties of  an  un- 
educated peo- 
ple in  a  new 
country  are 
shown  in  the 
size  of  their 
feet  and  hands, 
the  expression 
of  their  faces, 
the  fit  of  their 
clothing,  and 
their  general 
awkwardness. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  contact  of 
people  in  large  cities,  the '  growth  of  wealth, 
the  advantages  of  education  and  all  the  help- 
ful things  which  come  of  a  higher  civiliza- 
tion tend  to  make  the  shapes  of  their  bodies 
more  symmetrical  and  beautiful,  their  hands 
and  feet  smaller,  to  improve  their  taste  as 
to  the  combination  of  colors,  and  the  fit  of 
their  clothing,  and  also  to  make  their  heads 
larger. 

Does  it  make  them  happier? 


84        PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE 

Perhaps  it  docs.  It  improves  taste  and 
gives  a  keener  appreciation  of  the  beautiful 
and  the  enjoyable  in  music,  books,  the  theater, 
the  sermon — in  everything. 

Does  it  make  them  better? 

Positively,  no.  I  could  mention  a  great 
many  of  the  sins  and  evil  practices  which  are 
committed  and  in  vogue  in  our  larger  cities 
which  are  unknown  amongst  the  uneducated 
classes  in  our  rural  districts;  and  which,  if 
told  to  them,  would  either  not  be  believed  or 
would  be  a  most  shocking  revelation. 

What  more  awkward  picture  could  we  have 
than  that  of  a  great  big,  twenty  years  old  coun- 
try boy,  on  circus  day,  with  his  big  hands  and 
feet,  his  pants  too  short  and  the  third  dorsal 
vertebra  definitely  located  by  the  back  buttons 
on  his  coat;  with  his  long  carrotty  hair  and 
the  frosty,  gosling  fuzz  on  the  angles  of  his 
jaws  and  the  corners  of  his  chin,  the  scarlet 
cheeks  and  the  white  around  his  mouth,  indi- 
cating the  necessity  of  an  anthelmintic;  holding 
by  the  hand  a  little  hump-shouldered  girl,  with 
dress  too  short,  large  feet,  high  cheek  bones, 
sweaty  hands,  broad  hips,  full  bust,  last  year's 
hat,  and  awkward  as  a  young  cow;  both  eating 
gingerbread  and  gazing,  with  their  poor  hearts 
in  their  throats,  at  the  picture  of  the  Wallapus 
on  the  top  of  the  center  pole,  with  pale,  ex- 
pressionless, gravy  eyes — both  stopping  occa- 
sionally to  dig  the  impacted  gingerbread  out 
of  the  vaults  of  their  mouths  with  their  index 
fingers  and  then  sucking  the  fingers;  and  squeez- 
ing hands  and  working  their  toes,  and  throb- 
bing and  pulsating — two  great  big  "hunks" 
of  solid,  unmixed  bliss. 


PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE        85 

Who  says  that  they  are  not  enjoying  them- 
selves ? 

When  they  get  inside  that  big  fellow  will 
laugh  at  the  stale  jokes  of  the  clown  (vintage  of 
1840)  and  open  that  immense  mouth  so  wide 
that  one  will  instinctively  move  away  from 
him,  for  fear  of  falling  in. 

Contrast  them  with  a  couple  at  the  opera 
in  one  of  our  large  cities:  The  symmetrical 
forms,  the  small  hands  and  feet,  the  educated 
and  easy  airs,  his  silk  hat,  elegant  cane,  polished 
boots,  well  fitting  clothes  and  curled  moustache; 
her  elegant  dress  and  costly  trimmings,  her 
fashionable  hat  and  splendid  "patent  outside" 
complexion;  note  the  ease  with  which  they  use 
the  opera  glasses  and  ogle  and  dissect  their 
neighbors;  hear  their  intelligent  comments  on 
the  opera,  and  their  criticisms  of  the  singing 
and  the  acting.  These  people  are  educated. 
At  the  close  she  takes  his  arm  and  not  his  hand ; 
he  hands  her  into  the  carriage  with  perfect 
grace  and  then  gets  in  himself.  Let's  not  look 
in!  Why?  Because  it  might  not  be  good 
manners. 

"Are  all  educated  people  bad?"     No. 

"Are  all  uneducated  people  good?"     No. 

"Which  of  these  couples  enjoy  themselves 
the  more?" 

I  don't  know,  but  I  think  I  do. 

"Which  are  the  best,  morally?" 

I  don't  know,  but  I  think  I  do. 

"Which  of  the  two  couples  would  you  rather 
be?" 

Don't  ask  me! 

Reference  to  the  matter  of  ill  fitting  cloth- 
ing reminds  me  that,  in  the  "good  old  days," 


86        PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE 

there  was  always  one  boy  in  the  family  who 
always  wore  the  worst  fitting  clothes  of  any- 
body in  the  house.  He  was,  generally,  a  second 
or  third  son.  He  had  a  brother  or  brothers 
older  than  himself,  who  would  get  the  best  of 
all  that  was  new,  'and  he  would  have  to  take 
theirs  and  his  father's  old  clothes,  made  over. 
This  was  especially  the  case  with  summer  cloth- 
ing. The  linen  woven  by  the  good  old  mothers 
of  those  days  never  wore  out.  It  got  whiter 
each  summer,  but  not  older. 

Imagine  a  boy  fourteen  years  old  who  has 
an  older  brother.  This  older  brother  is  now 
getting  to  that  age  when  he  begins  to  cast 
"sheep's  eyes"  at  the  girls  and  must  go  into 
society.  The  parents  go  to  town  in  the  spring 
of  the  year  to  market  the  woven  fabrics — the 
linen,  linsey  and  jeans — that  can  be  spared, 
and  to  buy  such  things  as  they  can  purchase 
with  it.  These  consist  of  bleached  domestics, 
"store"  shoes,  a  little  fine  linen  for  shirt  bosoms, 
hats,  women's  straw  bonnets,  untrimmed;  and 
some  ribbons  of  different  colors.  They  come 
home  and  lay  out  all  the  "store  things"  that 
have  been  bought.  The  children  crowd  around 
and  the  mother  lays  out  the  articles,  one  by 
one,  and  says,  "this  is  linen  for  your  father's 
and  Henry's  shirt  bosoms;  these  are  Henry's 
shoes  and  this  is  his  hat;  this  ribbon  is  to  trim 
Polly's  and  Mahala's  hats,  and  this  is  for  this  one 
and  that  is  for  that;  and  poor  William  (Bill,  they 
call  him)  stands  by  eating  his  heart  and  wonders 
when  they  will  come  to  the  new  things  for  him. 

When  the  things  are  about  all  laid  out  he 
manages  to  swallow  his  heart  and  find  his  voice 
and,  at  last,  asks  in  desperation: 


PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE        87 

"Mamma,  didn't  you  buy  me  nothin?" 

"Yes,  my  son,  I  bought  you  this  hat  for 
summer."  (It  is  a  "chip"  and  cost  twelve 
and  a  half  cents!)  "I  can  make  over  Henry's 
last  summer  linen  coat  for  you — the  one  your 
father  wore  summer  before  last,  and — you  will 
have  to  go  barefoot  this  summer,  as  we  couldn't 
buy  any  more  things.  Henry  is  older  than  you 
and  must  have  some  things  that  you  can't  have 
yet." 

Her  speech  is  consoling  and  her  manner 
kind  and  regretful,  but  that  don't  do  Bill  any 
good.  He  almost  bursts.  He  goes  out  behind 
the  house  and  cries  and  bores  his  dirty  knuckles 
into  his  eyes  and  secretly  "cusses,"  and  above 
all,  wishes  he  could  get  a  chance  to  plaster  mud 
all  over  his  brother  Henry  "the  first  time  that 
he  puts  all  of  them  store  things  on."  He  also 
registers  an  oath  that  he  will  not  wear  that  old, 
long  linen  coat. 

But  the  time  conies  when  he  is  compelled 
to  violate  that  oath.  Parental  authority  is 
supreme,  and  the  first  time  he  goes  anywhere 
on  Sunday,  or  to  a  public  gathering,  his  mother 
gets  out  that  coat  and  makes  him  put  it  on.  It 
is  a  little  loose  and  entirely  too  long  and  makes 
him  look  something  like  a  revised  edition  of 
Huckleberry  Finn,  and  his -mother  says: 

"You've  growed  so,  William,  since  last 
summer  that  I  didn't  see  any  use  in  making  it 
over.  You'll  soon  grow  to  it!" 

That's  a  fact.  Give  him  time  and  he  will 
"grow  to  it."  The  coat  will  surely  wait,  for 
one  of  those  coats  never  was  worn  out. 

Bill  is  mad  and  protests  that  he  would  rather 
go  in  his  shirt  sleeves.     No,  he  must  wear  that 


83 


PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE 


coat,  and  furthermore,  his  mother  tells  him, 
"if  you  go  to  cuttin'  up  about  it,  you  shant  go 
nary  step."  This  settles  it.  The  Masons  are 
going  to  march  and  Bill  sees  fun  ahead.  He 
would  wear  his  father's  jeans  overcoat  rather 
than  miss  going.  It  is  the  first  Masonic  march 
and  he  would  not  miss  it  for  anything. 


"OH,  FOR  A  DOUBLE   SHOTTED  CANNON." 


He  has  to  ride  behind  his  brother  Henry  on 
an  old  mare  with  a  mule  colt  following.  Here 
is  another  humiliation.  And  that  mule  colt! 
Did  you  ever  have  one  follow  you,  reader? 
No?  Well,  you  have  some  chance  for  heaven. 
Every  time  they  meet  anybody  that  perverse 
mule  turns  around  and  follows  them.  There 
is  a  frantic  effort  to  get  around  it  with  the  old 
mare  and  get  it  to  follow.  No,  sir;  it  will  not 


PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE        89 

look  at  its  mother;  acts  as  if  it  never  saw  her 
before.  Bill  must  then  get  down  and  go  around 
it  while  Henry  sits  on  the  old  mare  in  the  road 
and  whistles  for  the  colt.  When  Bill  thinks 
he  has  it  headed  off,  it  makes  a  break  by  him 
and  runs  off  sidewise,  looking  back  and  jerking 
its  hide  with  a  tremulous  motion  from  its  ear 
clear  back  to  its  tail  and  brays  that  most  ag- 
gravating mule  colt  bray.  Oh,  for  a  double 
shotted  cannon!  Bill  gets  around  it  and  hits 
it  with  rocks,  and  grits  his  teeth  and  "cusses" 
and  grunts,  and  does  his  very  best  to  kill  it; 
but  rocks  glide  off  the  form  of  that  devilish 
mule  like  rubber  balls  off  the  side  of  an  iron 
clad.  You  can't  hurt  him.  I  do  really  believe 
that  mules  begin,  when  colts,  to  rehearse  for 
the  miserable  meanness  which  they  intend  to 
act  out  in  after  life. 

But  Bill  finally  heads  it  off  and  they  go  on 
to  town.  Bill  has  never  seen  the  Masons 
march — in  fact  they  have  never  marched  in 
that  county  before.  But  he  has  heard  a  great 
deal  about  them.  He  has  heard  people  say  that 
they  "believe  the  Masons  ain't  up  to  no  good, 
else  they  would  tell  it."  He  has  heard  too  that 
they  are  supposed  to  steal  horses  and  pass 
counterfeit  money.  Bill  thinks  that,  if  this  is 
true,  he  may  join  them  when  he  gets  older,  for 
he  is  in  a  general  state  bf  insurrection  about 
that  coat,  and  he  don't  care  much  what  he  does 
just  so  it  is  something  bad. 

As  soon  as  Bill  reaches  town  he  finds  a  lot 
of  boys  and  begins  to  play  marbles.  He  has 
brought  along  his  "white  alley,"  which  is  his 
"taw,"  some  "pee  wees,"  a  few  "pottery's" 
and  a  "glassy"  or  two.  He  knows  how  to  play 


90        PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE 

marbles.  He  is  an  expert.  He  has  practiced 
alone  at  noons  and  evenings  when  his  father  and 
brother  were  resting.  They  play  "keeps," 
and  with  his  unerring  precision  and  splendid 
nerve  Bill  wins  from  the  start.  About  noon 
music  is  heard  and  men,  women  and  children 
are  seen  rushing  toward  a  certain  point.  The 
boys  seize  their  marbles  and  rush  off  with  the 
crowd. 

The  Masons  are  marching! 

They  have  formed  in  their  hall  and  come 
into  the  street  double  file,  with  their  aprons  on, 
with  one  man  carrying  a  mace  and  an  old, 
grey  bearded  man  carrying  a  bible  on  a  plush 
covered  rest  which  is  suspended  from  his  shoul- 
ders by  straps.  They  are  headed  by  two  noted 
fiddlers  who  are  capable  of  furnishing  the  best 
music  that  can  be  made  inside  the  limits  of  the 
county.  They  are  playing  "Bonaparte's  Re- 
treat" and  everything  seems  very  solemn.  They 
pass  around  a  block  and  Bill  goes  with  the  crowd 
and  heads  the  procession  off.  The  fiddlers  have 
changed  the  tune  and  are  now  playing  "The 
Lost  Boy."  This  is  very  solemn  and  touching; 
Bill  is  so  worked  upon  by  the  music  that  he  could 
almost  forgive  the  mule,  if  the  mule  would  ask 
him  and  promise  not  to  do  so  any  more.  The 
procession  goes  all  over  the  little  town,  up  one 
street,  and  down  another,  the  crowd,  in  the 
meantime,  heading  it  off  here  and  there,  and 
finally  they  march  to  their  hall  and  disappear 
to  the  touching  strains  of  "Poor  Mary  Blaine." 

Bill  goes  back  to  the  game  of  "keeps;" 
and,  after  the  town  boys  have  bought  some  more 
marbles,  the  game  is  resumed  and  the  Masons, 
for  the  time,  are  forgotten.  Bill's  aim  improves 


PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE        91 

as  the  day  wears  away  and  his  one  pocket  (he 
has.  but  one  that  will  hold  shucks)  begins  to 
get  uncomfortably  full  and  sags  heavily.  Bill  has 
to  walk  side  wise  in  order  to  get  around.  He 
finally  wins  all  the  marbles  and  the  game  stops. 
The  town  boys  go  off  and  consult  and  Bill  sits 
down  in  the  dirt  with  two  marbles,  shooting 
one  at  the  other,  as  a  sort  of  challenge  to  all 
comers.  He  sees  furtive  glances  in  his  di- 
rection from  the  crowd  of  boys,  and  begins 
to  grow  uneasy.  They  evidently  intend  mis- 
chief; this  mischief  being  nothing  short  of 
throwing  him  down  and  taking  his  marbles 
away  from  him.  He  gets  up  and  slides  over 
to  the  fence,  where  the  long  linen  coat  hangs, 
and  takes  it  down  and  puts  it  on.  For  the  first 
time  he  feels  a  sort  of  protection  in  this  coat. 
It  is  a  sort  of  armor  and  makes  him  look 
larger. 

The  crowd  begins  to  move  toward  him  and 
he  starts  off  down  the  street  which  leads  toward 
his  home,  walking  slowly  and  whistling,  as 
though  he  didn't  understand  the  meaning  of 
their  maneuvers  and  has  no  idea  that  mischief 
is  contemplated.  He  hears  one  of  the  boys 
say,  "go  on,  Jack,"  and  a  big  boy  steps  out  of 
the  crowd  and  walks  toward  him.  Bill  walks 
a  little  faster.  The  big  boy  walks  faster  than 
he  does.  He  then  quickens  his  pace  and  walks 
much  faster.  The  pursuer  quickens  his  pace 
also  and  walks  very  much  faster.  Bill  then 
strikes  a  trot.  The  big  boy  trots  also;  then  Bill 
runs,  and  the  big  boy  runs,  too.  By  this  time 
they  have  reached  the  outer  edge  of  the  little 
town  and  are  going  down  a  long  hill.  It  now 
becomes  a  race  for — marbles. 


92        PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE 

Bill  is  sadly  handicapped  in  two  ways;  he 
is  smaller  than  his  pursuer  and  he  is  carrying 
immense  weight  in  the  great  number  of  marbles 
he  has  in  his  pocket  and  the  weight  is  badly 
distributed — all  the  marbles  being  in  one  pocket. 
But  Bill  lays  himself  out  for  all  those  marbles 
are  worth.  As  they  get  near  the  bottom  of  the 


"BILL  BROKE  THE  RECORD  IN  TROTTING 
THE  NEXT  MILE." 

hill  he  hears  the  quick  drawn  breath  of  the  other 
boy  and  the  flutter  of  his  pants.  He  feels  that 
nothing  but  a  coup  d'etat  will  save  those 
marbles. 

He  slackens  his  gait,  and,  as  the  big  boy 
passes  at  full  run,  he  catches  one  side  of  the 
tail  of  that  long  coat,  and,  carrying  it  over 
Bill's  head,  rips  it  up  to  the  collar.  This  brings 
the  big  boy  to  an  about  face,  and  before  he  can 


PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE        93 

recover  his  equilibrium,  Bill,  still  running, 
delivers  a  powerful  blow  with  his  fist  in  the  pit 
of  his  pursuer's  stomach. 

This  unexpected  stroke  doubles  the  big  boy 
up  like  a  jack  knife.  He  grabs  his  stomach 
with  both  hands,  walks  'round  and  'round 
in  a  kind  of  swing  and  gets  awfully  pale. 
After  a  while  he  begins  to  get  his  breath 
at  intervals,  with  a  loud  whooping  sound. 
Bill  does  not  wait  to  see  the  outcome.  He 
sees  the  crowd  coming  and  he  strikes  out 
in  a  dog  trot  with  those  coat  tails  standing 
out  on  either  side  like  the  wings  of  an  ostrich. 
When  he  reaches  the  top  of  the  hill  he  looks 
back  and  sees  the  big  boy  lying  down  and  the 
crowd  around  him,  some  of  whom  are  skaking 
their  fists  at  him;  but  they  do  not  make  further 
pursuit. 

Bill  breaks  the  record  in  trotting  the  next 
mile,  and  then,  feeling  that  he  is  safe,  lies 
down  in  the  shade  and  counts  his  marbles.  He 
has  about  a  hundred. 

"  Jee  Whillikins!  what  will  the  boys  say  when 
they  see  me  with  all  these  marbles?" 

There  are  two  things  which  Bill  is  glad  of: 
He  has  won  lots  of  marbles,  and  that  hateful 
coat  is  ruined  beyond  repair.  He  feels  sure 
of  it.  He  takes  it  off  and  carries  it  over  his 
shoulder  until  he  is  near  home.  He  then  puts 
it  on  for  a  purpose.  He  wants  his  mother  to 
see  it  in  its  condition  of  utter  and  irreparable 
ruin. 

When  he  goes  in  his  mother  asks : 

"Why,  William,  what  brought  you  home  so 
soon?" 

"Oh,  I  dunno;   I  jest  got  tired!" 


94        PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE 

"Why,  my  son,"  (turning  him  around)  "just 
look  at  your  coat!  How  in  the  world  did  you 
do  that?" 

"I  come  acrost  Turner's  paster,  and  as  I 
jumped  off  the  fence  it  cotch  on  a  knot  an'  jest 
tore  itself  I" 

"Lawsey!  Lawsey  massey,  William  you  are 
jest  the  wust  imp  I  ever  seen!  Turn  around 
here  and  let  me  see.  I  do  believe  you've  ruined 
that  coat — no  you  ain't  nuther;  I  tho't  it  was 
tore,  but  it  ain't;  ifs  jest  ripped;  I  can  sew  it 
up  and  make  it  as  good  as  ever!" 

Merciful  heavens!  Bill  thought  that  coat 
was  ruined!  and  it  is  only  ripped!  His  heart 
goes  clear  down  to  his  heels.  But  there  is  some 
consolation — he  has  got  more  marbles  than  all 
the  other  boys  in  that  neighborhood. 

The  above  is  not  overdrawn  and  everything 
therein  related  actually  occurred. 

Another  one  of  those  unfortunate  second 
sons  relates  his  experience. 

Colonel  Jack  and  some  choice  spirits  are 
sitting  around  the  camp  fire  in  the  Confederate 
army.  He  is  six  feet  two,  forty-five  and 
single. 

One  of  the  boys  asks:  "Colonel,  why  is  it 
that  you  have  never  married?" 

"For  good  and  sufficient  reasons,"  the 
Colonel  answers,  "I  was  never  in  love,  as  you 
call  it,  but  once,  and  as  it  brought  me  more 
troubles  and  disasters  in  one  year  than  I  have 
had,  otherwise,  in  all  my  life,  I  concluded  that 
I  had  better  give  the  fair  sex  a  wide  berth  and 
let  them  severely  alone." 

"Tell  us  about  it,  Colonel,"  exclaimed  a 
dozen  voices. 


PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE        95 

"Well,"  begun  the  Colonel,  "you  all  know 
that  I  was  reared  in  Missouri.  My  father 
had  a  few  old,  ashy,  scrofulous  niggers — enough 
to  give  the  family  an  air  of  respectability — but 
they  didn't  amount  to  much.  They  didn't 
keep  us  in  the  shade,  I  know.  My  father  was 
an  industrious  man  and  he  made  his  boys 
work,  and  my  mother  took  the  lead  of  the  negro 
women  and  the  girls  in  the  manufacture  of  all 
the  clothing  for  white  and  black. 

"I  was  an  unfortunate  boy  in  some  respects. 
I  was  a  second  son,  in  the  first  place.  My  older 
brother,  Bob,  got  all  the  new  things,  all  the 
'store  clothes,'  that  were  bought  and  I  had  to 
take  his  and  father's  old  clothes,  made  over. 
When  the  family  went  anywhere,  to  a  wedding, 
a  party  or  to  church,  Bob,  being  the  oldest, 
must  go  and  I  generally  had  to  remain  at  home, 
either  to  watch  the  house,  or  because  my  clothes 
were  not  good  enough. 

"Well,  as  a  consequence,  I  grew  up  to  be  a 
great  big,  awkward,  shy  boy.  I  was  afraid  of 
the .  girls  in  the  society  in  which  our  family 
moved.  I  was  utterly  mouthbound  and  speech- 
less in  the  presence  of  one  of  them. 

"When  I  was  about  sixteen  or  seventeen,  one 
of  those  old  migratory  fellows  came  along  and 
my  father  permitted  him  and  his  family  to  occupy 
an  old  shanty  that  was  on  the  place  and  let  him 
cultivate  a  piece  of  ground  'on  shares.'  Con- 
trary to  the  rule  with  such 'people  this  old  man 
and  his  wife  had  only  one  child — a  daughter. 
The  old  man  was  one  of  those  old,  sawed  off, 
pot-bellied  and  short  legged  fellows,  that  didn't 
like  to  move  around  and  work  much,  and  so 
took  life  after  a  sort  of  'hand  to  mouth'  fashion. 


96        PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE 

The  girl  was  about  my  age  or  a  little  younger, 
was  fat, — a  regular  squab — and  her  skin  was 
as  white  as  bleached  muslin. 

"I  soon  began  to  slip  over  to  this  old  man's 
home  at  night,  or  when  our  family  was  gone, 
and  was  soon  on  the  very  best  of  terms  with  the 
family — including  the  girl.  It  wasn't  long  until 
the  girl  and  I  were  heels  over  head  in  love. 
It  was  that  agonizing  kind  of  love  that  just 
submerges  and  overwhelms  you  and  gives  you 
the  backache. 

"The  girl  and  I  never  talked  love.  Oh,  no, 
we  were  too  deeply  and  sadly  and  madly  in  love 
for  that.  We  just  took  it  out  in  squeezing  hands 
and  looking  unutterable  things  at  each  other. 

"I  guess  we  were  about  as  sick  a  looking 
pair  of  young  geese  as  anybody  ever  saw.  I 
got  to  be  very  little  account  on  the  farm.  I 
would  forget  to  eat  my  meals  if  I  wasn't  called 
two  or  three  times.  The  girl's  father  and 
mother  were  delighted,  for  they  felt  it  to  be  a 

great  compliment  to  have  one  of  Judge 's 

sons  as  a  suitor  for  Matilda's  hand.  Her  name 
was  Matilda,  but  they  called  her  'Tilda. 

"There  was  a  spring  of  good  water  near  the 
house  occupied  by  this  old  doughnut,  and  I 
would  sometimes  take  our  jug  and  go  down  to 
the  spring  after  water  when  we  would  be  work- 
ing in  the  field  near  there.  I  would  always 
manage  to  let  'Tilda  know  that  I  was  coming, 
by  whistling  or  singing,  and  then  she  would 
seize  a  bucket  and  come  down.  We  used  to 
sit  on  the  low  bank  below  the  spring  and  squeeze 
hands  and  paddle  our  feet  in  the  water,  and  I 
would  look  into  'Tilda's  great  blue  eyes  and 
almost  die. 


PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE        97 

"This  thing  went  on  one  whole  summer  and 
the  following  fall  and  winter. 

"About  the  first  of  March  the  next  year  a 
great  calamity  befell  'Tilda  and  me.  I  don't 
know  how  it  could  have  happened  without 
my  hearing  of  it;  but  from  some  cause,  I  hadn't 
been  over  to  see  'Tilda  for  a  week  or  so;  and 
all  at  once  her  father,  with  the  instinct  of 
his  class,  took  a  notion  to  move.  He  and 
father  had  met  and  fixed  up  all  their  business. 
Father  had  bought  what  little  feed  stuff  he 
had  left  and  the  old  man  was  preparing  to 
seek  another  place.  I  heard  of  it  the  morn- 
ing they  were  to  move.  Father  was  over 
there  attending  to  some  small  unsettled  details 
with  the  old  man.  I  don't  remember  what 
excuse  I  made  for  going  over,  but  I  went. 
I  do  not  remember  to  have  ever  felt  worse  than 
I  did  that  morning.  I  have  seen  relatives  die; 
I  have  seen  comrades  whom  I  dearly  loved 
shot  down  in  battle;  in  short  I  have  wit- 
nessed many  calamities  that  are  calculated  to 
pull  on  a  fellow's  heartstrings  pretty  hard; 
but  this  day  was  the  worst.  I  didn't  know 
what  to  do.  I  felt  like  rushing  into  the  midst 
of  them  with  some  drawn  weapon  and  utter- 
ing a  manly  protest  against  the  outrage.  But 
I  didn't.  I  didn't  know  how;  and  besides  I 
wasn't  that  kind  of  a  lover.  My  love  made 
me  cowardly,  tremulous,  weak  and  sick.  The 
old  man  had  all  his  household  goods  in  an 
old  wagon  to  which  was  hitched  a  yoke  of 
oxen  with  an  old  mare  in  the  lead  of  the  steers 
— a  'spike  team.'  There  was  a  chicken  coop 
containing  the  chickens  on  behind  the  wagon, 
and  some  old,  bottomless  chairs  tied  on  to 


98        PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE 

the  coop.  'Tilda  was  on  the  other  old  mare 
and  had  gathered  the  two  cows  and  a  couple 
of  yearlings  which  she  was  to  drive  behind 
the  wagon.  She  was  riding  around,  keep- 
ing this  stock  in  place  for  the  start,  while  her 
'dad'  and  mine  finished  business  matters. 
I  didn't  get  to  speak  to  her.  I  just  looked  at 
her — looked  that  wistful,  longing,  painful  look, 
such  as  only  a  lover  of  my  age  and  condition 
can  look. 

"Finally  the  old  man  took  up  the  line  that 
was  to  guide  the  old  mare  in  the  lead,  and 
the  whip  which  was  to  govern  the  oxen. 

"'Well,  good  bye,  Judge,'  said  he;  'good 
bye,  Jackie'  (that  was  me)  and  then — 'get 
up,  Lize!  Wo,  Buck;  come  here,  Broad.' 

"There  was  a  'ronching'  and  squeaking 
sound  from  the  old  wagon,  the  girl  got  around 
the  cows  and  yearlings  and  they  dropped 
in  behind  the  wagon.  She  looked  at  me  as 
she  turned  into  the  road  and  with  those  big, 
blue  eyes  swimming  in  tears,  said,  'good  bye, 
Jack;'  'good  bye,  'Tilda,'  I  answered,  in 
choking  tones,  and  then  turning  saw  my  father 
as  he  was  turning  to  go  home.  I  did  not  dare 
to  risk  myself  in  his  company,  for  I  felt  that 
I  would  'boo-hoo'  in  spite  of  all  that  I  could 
do.  I  turned  and  ran  for  about  a  quarter  of 
a  mile,  at  right  angles  to  the  road  home,  in 
a  path  that  led  around  a  forty  acre  field. 
When  I  got  around  in  the  timber  out  of  sight 
of  my  father  I  sat  down  on  a  log,  and  then, 
with  nobody  present  but  the  Lord  and  me, 
I  opened  up  the  flood  gates.  It  was  the  only 
thing  to  do.  I  had  to  let  off  the  pressure 
or  burst. 


PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE        99 

After  that  I  was  silent,  moody  and  melan- 
choly, devising  a  thousand  ways  by  which  I 
was  to  get  that  girl  and  abandoning  them  all 
because  I  had  no  courage. 

"Finally  one  Sunday  in  April  the  family 
went  away  to  church,  and,  as  usual,  left  me 
at  home.  After  they  had  gone  a  sense  of 
loneliness  came  over  me.  I  wanted  to  see 
'Tilda,  and,  in  five  minutes  I  decided  that  I 
would  see  her,  if  she  was  to  be  seen. 

"I  put  on  the  best  clothes  I  had,  which 
were  mostly  second  hand.  I  caught  an  old 
blind  mare  which  was  kept  up  to  keep  her 
from  falling  over  banks  and  killing  herself, 
or  getting  lost.  All  the  other  horses  that  the 
family  were  not  using  had  been  turned  out. 
I  put  an  old  blind  bridle  on  her  and  an  old 
saddle  that  the  niggers  used,  and  mounted 
and  started — where?  I  didn't  know.  It  had 
never  occurred  to  me  to  ask  where  'Tilda's 
father  had  moved  to.  He  might  be  within 
five  miles;  he  might  be  in  Arkansas  or  Texas. 
But  I  determined  to  make  an  effort,  and 
so  I  started  in  the  same  direction  and  on  the 
same  road  that  they  had  taken  on  the  morn- 
iny  they  went  away.  I  must  have  been  a 
sight.  I  was  then  seventeen,  was  six  feet  tall 
and  as  slender  as  a  rail.  I  had  on  an  alpaca 
coat  which  was  too  short;  the  stirrup  leathers 
were  too  short,  and  when  I  got  on,  my  knees 
almost  met  over  the  old <  mare's  withers.  It 
was  nearly  noon  when  I  started  and  I  rode 
five  or  six  miles  before  I  began  to  make 
inquiries.  I  couldn't  hear  a  word  of  them 
anywhere.  But  I  rode  on  in  perfect  despera- 
tion. I  rode  through  two  or  three  different 


100      PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE 

neighborhoods  until,  when  the  sun  began  to 
wane,  I  felt  that  I  must  be  many  miles  away 
from  home,  and,  still  to  all  inquiries  the  same 
answer  came — 'don't  know  any  such  person; 
he  don't  live  in  this  neighborhood.' 

"Finally  I  met  a  man,  who,  after  the  usual 
inquiry,  said, 

"'Oh,  yes,  I  think  I  know  him — little, 
old,  short,  fat  man,  ain't  he?' 

'"Yes.' 

'"Got  a  wife  and  one  darter — fat,  fair 
complected  gal?' 

"'Yes.' 

'"Well,  he  lives  over  here  about  three 
mile,  on  Mr.  Ashley's  place.' 

"He  then  gave  me  directions  how  to  get 
there  and  I  started  off,  feeling  jubilant.  I 
had  found  my  love.  I  felt  that  I  could  almost 
fly.  I  urged  the  old  blind  mare  on  to  her 
best  speed,  and  that  was  not  much,  for  she 
was  about  worn  out.  Just  as  the  sun  was 
setting  I  rode  up  to  the  place.  It  was  a  little 
doubled  log  house,  with  a  good  deal  of  the 
'chinking'  and  'daubing'  out  of  it.  I  got  a 
glimpse  of  'Tilda  and  things  began  to  revolve 
and  for  a  moment  I  was  stone  blind.  Oh, 
bliss!  bliss!  bushels  and  buckets  of  bliss! 
The  family  all  came  out  to  meet  me.  The 
old  man  called  me  'Jackie'  and  was  glad  to 
see  me.  'Tilda  called  me  'Jack',  in  her 
most  mellifluous  tones,  and  as  soon  as  we 
were  alone,  said, 

"'You  great,  big  feller,  you!  why  didn't 
ye  come  sooner?' 

"The  old  lady  and  'Tilda  got  supper  at 
the  old  fashioned  fireplace,  for  there  were  no 


PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE      101 

stoves  in  those  days,  and  the  evening  being 
cool  the  old  man  and  I  sat  on  either  side  of 
the  fireplace  and  talked. 

"Just  before  supper  was  ready  the  old 
lady,  after  having  fried  the  meat,  set  the  fry- 
ing pan  against  the  jamb  of  the  fireplace  near 
me.  It  was  one  of  the  old  fashioned  frying 
pans,  with  a  long  flat  handle  with  a  hole  in 
the  end.  I  took  hold  of  the  handle  of  the  pan 
and  was  fumbling  with  it,  and  intuitively 
stuck  my  finger  through  the  hole.  It  was  a 
neat  fit  and  when  I  attempted  to  get  my 
finger  out  I  found  that  it  wouldn't  come. 
Just  then  supper  was  announced.  Here  was 
a  fix.  I  couldn't  go  to  the  table  with  that 
frying  pan  on  my  finger,  and  I  was  too  bash- 
ful to  announce  my  predicament,  so  I  said 
in  answer  to  the  invitation  to  'set  up  to  sup- 
per,' 

"No,  thank  you,  I'm  not  hungry!' 

"This  was  an  awful  lie,  for  I  had  had  no 
dinner,  had  ridden  hard  all  the  afternoon 
and  was  as  hungry  as  a  wolf.  But,  try  all 
I  would,  I  couldn't  get  my  finger  out  of  that 
hole  in  the  frying  pan  handle! 

"They  insisted  on  my  'setting  up  and 
trying  to  eat  a  bite,'  and  I  persisted  that  I 
was  not  hungry — all  the  time  with  the  •  frying 
pan  handle  between  my  knees  and  tugging 
away,  trying  to  release  my  finger,  but  it 
wouldn't  come,  nor  did  they  notice  my  pre- 
dicament. After  exhausting  all  efforts  to  get 
me  to  'set  up,'  without  avail,  they  sat  down. 

"Left  to  myself,  and  taking  things  quietly, 
I  soon  got  my  finger  out  of  the  hole.  I  would 
have  given  the  blind  mare  for  them  to  ask 


102      PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE 

me  to  supper  again;  but  they  didn't.  They 
had  done  all  that  good  people  could  do  and 
I  would  not  eat.  After  supper  the  old  man 
went  out  about  his  feeding  and  I  went  out 
and  'minded  off  the  calves,'  while  'Tilda 
milked.  When  she  came  in  she  set  the  bucket 
of  milk  on  the  table  and  went  into  the  other 
room  in  search  of  the  strainer.  It  occurred 
to  me  that  this  was  a  good  chance  to  get  a 
swig  of  milk  and  I  grabbed  up  the  bucket 
and  drank  the  warm  milk  like  a  very  calf. 
The  bail  of  the  bucket  fell  over  my  head  and 
as  'Tilda  opened  the  door  I  attempted  to  set 
the  bucket  down  right  quick  and  the  bail 
caught  on  the  back  of  my  neck  and  I  spilt 
about  a  pint  of  milk  in  my  bosom. 

"'Tilda  was  astonished.  I  then  told  her 
why  I  had  not  eaten  supper.  As  the  old  folks 
had  temporarily  surrendered  this  room  to 
us,  'Tilda  went  to  work  at  once  to  prepare 
something  for  me  to  eat.  She  desired  to 
treat  me  to  some  plum  preserves,  and,  as  they 
were  in  a  jar  on  a  high  shelf,  in  the  cupboard, 
she  asked  me  to  take  them  down.  In  doing 
so  I  tilted  them  over  and  spilled  a  lot  of  them 
in  my  hair.  'Tilda  washed  me  off  the  sec- 
ond time  and  I  finally  sat  down  and  ate  a 
hearty  supper.  It  wasn't  long,  however,  until 
'Tilda  and  I  were  seated  'cheek  by  jowl,' 
in  the  good  old  way,  throbbing  and  pulsating 
against  each  other.  She  had  a  breath  like  a 
young  cow  just  after  the  first  appearance  of  wild 
onions.  But  all  the  blissful  pleasures  in  this 
life  must  end,  sometime.  The  old  lady  called 
out  to  us  from  the  other  room  that  it  was 
bed  time.  They  had  a  bed  in  each  room, 


PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE      103 

so  that  there  was  no  other  way  to  arrange 
things  except  for  the  old  lady  and  'Tilda  to 
occupy  the  bed  in  one  room  and  the  old  man 
and  I  the  other. 

"The  old  man  came  in  and  'Tilda  went 
into  the  other  room  with  her  mother.  I  was 
terribly  bashful  about  going  to  bed  with  the 
old  man,  but  finally  managed  to  get  in  behind. 
During  the  night  one  of  those  terribly  cold 
April  storms  came  up,  and,  as  I  was  sleeping 
near  a  big  crack  where  the  chinking  and 
daubing  were  out,  I  woke  up  almost  frozen. 
It  was  just  unbearably  cold.  I  slid  out  over 
the  foot  of  the  bed  and  got  my  pants  and, 
crawling  back,  stuffed  them  into  the  crack. 
After  this  I  got  along  very  well.  When  I 
awoke  the  next  morning  the  old  man  was 
gone.  He  had  arisen  and  was  out  feeding. 
Pretty  soon  the  old  lady  knocked  on  the  door 
and  called, 

"'Come,  Jackie,  breakfast  is  ready.'  I 
bounced  out,  and,  not  seeing  my  pants  remem- 
bered that  I  had  stuffed  them  in  the  crack; 
but  what  was  my  surprise  upon  looking  there 
to  find  that  they  were  not  there.  I  looked 
all  over  the  room,  turned  the  covers  about 
and  got  on  the  bed  and  peeped  out  through 
the  crack,  but  nowhere  could  those  pants  be 
found. 

"The  old  lady  knocked  on  tne  door  again — 

"'Are  you  up,  Jackie?' 

"I  jumped  in  bed  and  covered  up  and 
answered, 

"'No'm.' 

'"Well,  get  up,'  said  she,  'breakfast  is 
ready.' 


104      PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE 

"I  got  up  and  took  another  look  for  the 
pants.  But,  it  was  no  use.  I  couldn't  find 
them.  The  old  man  finally  came  in. 

"Come,  Jackie,'  said  he,  in  a  hearty, 
kind  way,  'get  up  young  feller;  they're  waitin' 
breakfast  fur  ye.' 


"EVEN  'TILDA  COULD  NOT  REPRESS  A  SMILE." 

"I  had  to  tell  the  old  man  that  I  couldn't 
find  my  pants.  He  then  made  search,  and, 
finally  the  old  lady  was  called  in,  and,  while 
I  covered  up,  she  'raked  the  house  with  a 
fine  tooth  comb,'  and  'Tilda  was  drafted 
into  service  and  sent  around  the  house  on 
the  outside.  It  all  ended  in  not  finding  my 


PECULIARITIES  OF  PIONEER  PEOPLE      105 

pants.  At  last  they  brought  me  a  pair  of 
the  old  man's  pants  and  I  got  up  and  put 
them  on.  I  was  a  sight  to  behold.  The  pants 
struck  me  about  half  way  between  the  knees 
and  ankles  and  went  around  me  almost  twice. 
I  think  I  was  as  ridiculous  a  looking  creature 
as  any  one  ever  looked  upon.  Even  'Tilda 
could  not  repress  a  smile.  After  breakfast  I 
went  out  with  the  old  man  to  catch  the  old 
blind  mare,  and  there,  near  the  stable,  stood 
a  calf — one  of  the  yearlings — with  one  of  my 
suspenders  hangin'  out  of  its  mouth.  The 
infernal  thing  had  eaten  my  pants  and  had, 
I  firmly  believe,  swallowed  my  pocket  knife. 
I  was  a  perfect  sight  riding  home  with  the 
old  man's  pants  on. 

"I  dreaded  the  ordeal  of  meeting  the  folks. 
Unfortunately  I  arrived  there  at  noon,  when 
the  family  were  at  the  house,  and  I  had  to 
run  the  gauntlet  of  my  father  and  mother, 
my  big  brother  and  the  other  children,  and 
even  the  blamed  niggers  laughed  at  me.  I 
had  to  tell  the  whole  story  in  order  to  account 
for  my  change  of  pants.  I  didn't  hear  the 
last  of  the  matter  for  years. 

"I  just  concluded,  then  and  there,  that  if 
a  little  love  scrape  like  that  would  cost  me 
so  much  trouble,  I  wouldn't  have  anything  to 
do  with  love  matters,  and  I  never  have." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THEN  AND  NOW 

HARDSHIPS  OF  THE  PIONEER — THE  WAY  THEY 
LIVED — MUSCLE  AND  ITS  ENVIRONMENT — 
THE  RESULT  OF  EDUCATION  AND  WEALTH — 
C.  AUGUSTUS  AND  ARABELLA — A  CONTRAST — 
WHY? 

EW  people,  who 
live  in  large  cities 
or  in  old  and 
well  populated 
communities,  are 
able  to  realize 
jthe  difficulties  to 
'be  overcome,  the 
hardships  to  be 
undergone,  and 
the  discomforts 
to  be  endured 
by  the  pioneer  in  a  new  country 

If  we  could  conceive  of  such  a  thing  as  an 
uninhabited  land,  rich  in  all  natural  resources, 
blessed  with  fertile  soil,  pure  water  and 
good  seasons,  and  then  drop  a  family  down 
from  some  other  planet,  what  could  they 
do? 

Everything  looks  well.  The  soil  is  rich, 
but  where  is  the  seed?  The  seasons  are 
favorable,  but  where  is  the  plow?  The  water 
is  clear  and  pure,  but  man  can  not  live  on 
water  alone  any  more  than  he  can  on  bread 
alone.  This  was  very  much  the  condition  of 
the  early  pioneers  in  the  West.  They  had 


108  THEN  AND  NOW 

nothing   except   what   they   could   bring   with 
them  in  wagons. 

Tiring  of  the  restraints  of  older  com- 
munities, or  desiring  to  reach  some '  goodly 
land  where  the  soil  was  cheap  and  fertile,  in 
which  they  could  rear  their  families  and  give 
their  sons  and  daughters  an  equal  start  in 
life  with  the  best  of  those  around  them,  these 
grand  pioneers  broke  loose  from  all  ties  of 
home  and  kindred  and  plunged  into  the  unex- 
plored wilderness. 

There  is  a  sort  of  instinctive  feeling  in  the 
heart  of  every  brave  and  proud  man  which 
rebels  at  the  idea  of  being  second  to  anybody 
in  the  community.  We  all  feel  at  times  that 
"It  is  better  to  be  the  first  man  in  a  small 
town  than  the  second  man  in  a  large  one." 
This  is  the  feeling  that  moves  many  a  man 
from  the  older  communities,  where  competi- 
tion is  strong,  and  drives  him  to  the  new  where 
he  may  be,  if  not  the  best,  at  least  as  good 
as  the  best.  But  for  such  a  man  there  is  nothing 
but  hardships  and  bitter  trial  at  the  start. 
He  goes  into  the  virgin  forest,  with  untamed 
nature  all  around  him,  and  grapples  with 
this  rough  environment  for  his  living. 

He  must  cut  down  the  trees  and  build  a 
house,  or  an  excuse  for  one,  which  will  pro- 
tect him  and  his  from  the  inclement  weather 
and  from  the  wild  beasts  around  him.  He 
must  plow  up  the  new  soil  with  an  indifferent 
plow;  he  must  build  fences  and  barns,  and 
make  bridges,  go  perhaps  a  hundred  miles  to 
mill,  and,  in  fact,  do  everything  at  a  sacrifice 
of  time  and  muscle  which  would  be  appalling 
to  the  man  in  the  so-called  civilized  com- 


THEN  AND  NOW  109 

munities.  And,  after  all  his  toil,  if  he  should 
raise  more  than  he  can  use,  unless  enough 
new  comers  come  in  to  help  him  eat  it,  it  is 
a  burden  on  his  hands. 

He  must  raise  his  own  sheep,  and  his  wife 
and  daughters  must  spin,  dye,  warp  and  weave 
and  make  the  winter's  clothing.  He  raises 
flax  and  from  this  the  women  spin,  warp  and 
weave  and  make  the  summer  clothing  for  all 
the  family. 

The  wild  animals  and  birds,  the  squirrel, 
the  coon  and  the  bear,  the  crow,  the  black- 
bird and  the  jay,  make  incursions  on  his  grow- 
ing crops  and  he  is  kept  busy,  when  not  at  the 
plow,  in  driving  away  and  killing  those  pests 
of  the  pioneer. 

If  the  streams  are  swollen  with  spring  or 
autumn  rains,  there  being  no  bridges,  and  the 
bread  runs  short,  the  family  must  resort  to 
"gritting"  their  bread.  Does  the  reader  know 
what  "gritting"  is?  If  not,  I  must  explain. 

The  "gritter"  is  made  by  taking  a  piece  of 
old  tin  (usually  an  old  coffee  pot,  flattened 
out)  and  perforating  it  all  over  with  a  nail — 
all  the  perforations  being  made  from  one  side. 
The  nail  thus  pushes  the  tin  through  to  the 
opposite  side  and  makes  it  rough.  This  is 
bent  to  a  concavo-convex  and  nailed  to  a 
board  with  the  convex  and  rough  surface  out- 
ward. 

If  the  new  corn  is  just  "passed  the  milk" 
it  is  all  right  for  being  gritted.  If  not,  hard 
corn  must  be  taken  and  boiled  until  it  is  suf- 
ficiently soft  for  that  purpose.  In  either  case, 
the  person  who  does  the  "gritting"  sits  down 
and  puts  one  end  of  the  "gritter"  in  a  big 


110  THEN  AND  NOW 

tray  and  the  other  between  his  knees,  and 
then,  grasping  the  corn  by  the  two  ends,  he 
passes  it  rapidly  up  and  down  over  this  rough 
surface,  and  the  grains  of  the  corn  are  thus 
cut  into  fine  particles  and  fall  into  the  tray. 
This  is  sifted  and  then  made  into  corn  bread 
in  the  usual  way.  If  the  family  happened  to 
have  company,  when  in  such  straitened  cir- 
cumstances, they  would  want  something  finer 
than  the  coarser  parts  of  the  "gritted"  meal 
for  the  purpose  of  making  a  pudding.  That 
was  obtained  in  this  way: 

Having  a  large  tray  of  "gritted"  meal, 
one  of  the  women  of  the  house  would  sit  down 
with  a  piece  of  fine,  home  woven  linen  and, 
drawing  it  through  the  heap,  catching  the 
finer  particles  on  it  (the  coarser  particles  fall- 
ing off  from  their  weight)  she  would  then 
shake  this  over  another  tray.  This  was  re- 
peated until  enough  of  the  finer  particles  of 
the  gritted  meal  was  obtained  to  make  the 
required  pudding.  This  was  called  "sarchin' 
for  flour." 

Upon  this  and  lye  hominy  the  family  sub- 
sisted for  bread  until  the  streams  were  ford- 
able  again. 

This  was  only  one  of  the  many  privations 
to  which  the  pioneer  was  subjected. 

It  was  almost  impossible  to  obtain  such  an 
article  as  nails  except  to  a  very  limited  extent, 
and  hence  the  boards  that  covered  the  house 
and  other  building  were  laid  on  in  the  usual 
way  and  then  "weighted"  on  with  poles — • 
the  poles  being  held  in  position  by  wooden 
pins.  The  man  who  owned  an  auger,  a  draw- 
ing knife,  a  hand  saw  and  a  chisel  was  con- 


THEN  AND  NOW  111 

sidered  to  be  almost  a  bloated  aristocrat,  and 
had  many  opportunities  to  lend  them. 

Under  those  severe  conditions  the  pioneer 
struggled  on. 

After  a  while  plenty  of  comfort  came.  The 
"wild  nature"  was  taken  out  of  the  soil  by 
cultivation.  By  building  and  rebuilding  he 
finally  obtained  a  home  which  was  comfort- 
able. Stock  grew  and  multiplied,  children 
came  and  grew  up  as  helpers  in  the  family, 
and  here  great  happiness  reigned  and  the 
strongest  virtue  that,  perhaps,  the  world  has 
ever  known  was  developed.  In  time  the 
mills  came  nearer,  bridges  were  built  and 
other  comforts  of  a  slowly  advancing  civiliza- 
tion found  their  way  into  these  far  away  settle- 
ments. 

What  a  contrast  between  then  and  now! 

Then  such  things  as  paralysis,  insanity, 
and  suicide  were  unknown.  I  am  often  asked, 
(as  I  suppose  every  doctor" is)  "Why  is  it  that 
there  are  so  many  more  cases  of  paralysis, 
insanity,  and  suicide  now  than  in  the  early 
days?"  The  answer  is  easy  when  one  thinks 
a  moment.  When  the  pioneer  grappled  with 
his  environment  with  his  muscle,  it  was  purely 
a  battle  between  muscle  and  courage  on  the 
one  hand  and  the  virgin  forest  on  the  other. 

There  was  very  little  need  for  cultivated 
brains,  for  the  pioneer  could  not  use  such  a 
brain  if  he  had  it. 

The  pioneer's  brain  was  rarely  excited  by 
anything.  By  his  constant  toil  his  excess  of 
blood  was  daily  drawn  into  his  muscles  in  order 
to  supply  the  waste  occasioned  by  the  wield- 
ing of  the  ax,  the  maul  and  other  necessary 


112  THEN  AND  NOW 

implements  of  his  warfare,  with  the  unhewn 
forests.  When  he  lay  down  at  night  his  brain 
was  at  rest.  He  lived  (unless  cut  off  by  acci- 
dent or  some  acute  disease)  until  his  worn- 
out  muscular  system  fell  to  pieces  like  an  old 
wagon. 

But  how  is  it  now?  Men  do  not  grapple 
with  their  surroundings  with  their  muscles, 
but  with  their  brains.  Every  man  is  trying 
to  make  his  head  save  his  hands. 

The  Exchange,  the  Board  of  Trade  and 
the  Stock  Market  absorb  his  attention  all 
day  and  sometimes  all  night.  Those  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  these  modern  brain 
destroying  engines  are  not  the  only  ones 
affected  by  them.  There  are  men  in  every 
city,  town  and  village  in  the  country  who  are 
constantly  worrying,  day  and  night,  as  to  the 
best  way  to  overcome  their  fellow  man.  The 
part  of  the  system  most  used  and  most  excited, 
is  the  part  that  gives  way  first.  If  the  brain 
is  the  organ  it  is  apt  to  be  the  first  to  suffer. 
From  this  constantly  maintained  hyper-phy- 
siological state  it,  after  a  while,  becomes  a 
pathological  state.  The  arteries  become  dis- 
eased, break  down  under  sudden  excitement 
or  strain,  and  the  man  is  paralyzed. 

If  the  blood  vessels  do  not  break  the  con- 
gestion continues  and  the  man  is  insane;  or 
perhaps,  under  the  excitement  of  the  delusions 
and  fear  brought  on  by  these  conditions,  he 
commits  suicide.  This  explains  it  all. 

This  is  not  the  only  contrast  that  one  might 
draw  between  then  and  now. 

The  old  man  and  the  old  woman — the 
pioneers — must  die  after  a  while  and  then 


THEN  AND  NOW  113 

their  sons  and  daughters  take  their  places. 
In  their  time  comes  more  comforts  and  more 
of  the  arts  of  civilized  life.  The  school  house 
is  built  and  the  teacher  comes  to  "teach  the 
young  idea  how  to  shoot."  After  a  while  the 
big  steamboats  come  plowing  their  way  up 
the  big  rivers  and  commerce  is  established 
with  the  outside  world.  The  enterprising  ones 
get  rid  of  their  surplus  products;  men  begin 
to  buy  and  sell,  and  some  grow  rich.  Riches 
thus  acquired  are  handed  down  from  genera- 
tion to  generation.  With  this  wealth  men 
begin  to  buy  ease,  comfort  and  idleness.  Young 
men  able  to  live  without  it  do  not  labor  as  a 
rule.  The  head  of  the  household  in  the  second 
or  third  generation  from  the  old  pioneer  takes 
it  into  his  head  that  his  children  are  too  good 
to  work.  His  education  is  better  than  that  of 
his  father  or  his  grandfather;  his  sensibilities 
are  keener  and  he  feels  that  it  is  hard  to  make 
Charlie  work  when  there  is  no  use  of  it. 
Charles  Augustus,  with  his  sister  Arabella,  is 
therefore  sent  to  school  in  the  neighborhood 
eight  or  ten  months  out  of  the  year.  During 
the  long  and  hot  summer  days,  when  the  hired 
hands  are  harvesting  the  crop,  Charles  Augus- 
tus lies  on  his  back  in  the  shade  of  the  trees 
and  reads — what?  He  reads  blood  and  thun- 
der novels;  that  kind  of  literature  which  makes 
heroes  of  burglars,  and  great  men  of  horse 
thieves.  "Pitiless  Pete,  the  Pirate,"  "Slippery 
Sam,  the  Slaughterer,"  and  "One-eyed  Ike, 
the  Red-handed  Ranger  of  the  Roaring 
Rockies,"  and  "The  Red  Right  Hand  of  De 
Benjamin  McGinnis."  He  knows  all  about 
prize  fights  and  all  sorts  of  sports,  but  not  a 


114  THEN  AND  NOW 

thing  about  his  father's  farm  which  is  being 
run  by  others  right  under  his  nose.  His 
sister  is  very  much  like  him.  They  both  rise 
in  the  morning  at  nine,  ten  or  eleven  o'clock. 
Arabella  gives  her  attention  to  the  styles  in 
the  magazines  while  C.  Augustus  pursues  his 
hero.  After  a  while  they  are  both  sent  away 
to  a  college  and  female  seminary  in  the  same 
town.  C.  Augustus  here  begins  to  show  the 
effects  of  his  home  training.  He  finds  himself 
behind  poor  boys  who  are  working  their  way 
through  college.  But  he  don't  care. 

"It  is  so  deuced  hard,  you  know." 

He  compromises  by  dressing  in  the  latest 
style,  parts  his  hair  in  the  middle  and  stands 
upon  the  front  of  the  college  building  or  upon 
the  streets  of  mornings  and  evenings  and 
"mashes"  the  girls  as  they  pass  and  tugs 
unremittingly  at  a  young  and  struggling 
mustache. 

But  C.  Augustus  swims.  If  he  can  not 
study  he  can  dress,  and  his  father's  money 
freely  spent  gives  him  an  entree  into  "our 
best  society" — whatever  that  is. 

Let's  compare  C.  Augustus  with  the  "foun- 
der of  the  family" — his  grand  or  great  grand- 
father, as  the  case  may  be.  Let  them  stand 
up  side  by  side  and  we  will  note  the  change 
wrought  by  education  and  civilization. 

The  old  man  is  six  feet  two  inches  in  his 
stocking  feet,  parts  his  hair  on  the  side,  wears 
"stable  door,"  brown  jeans  pants  (the  kind 
that  have  a  flap  that  lets  down  in  front 
like  the  hind  gate  of  an  express  wagon)  has  a 
hand  like  a  Cincinnati  ham,  No.  10  feet,  and 
weighs  one  hundred  and  ninety.  C.  Augus- 


THEN  AND  NOW 


115 


tus  is  five  feet  five,  parts  his  hair  in  the  meri- 
dian, wears  dude  clothes  from  head  to  foot, 
has  hands  like  a  lady  and  feet  after  the  same 
pattern.  C.  Augustus  may  know  more  about 
the  world  than  the  old  man,  but  his  great 
ancestor  could  take  him  by  the  collar  with 


C.  AUGUSTUS  AND  HIS  GRANDFATHER. 

one  hand  and  throw  him  over  a  ten  rail  fence 
without  even  grunting. 

But  these  are  not  the  only  differences  in 
these  two  people.  This  contrast  is  great  enough 
but  there  is  a  still  greater  contrast  in  their 
habits,  tastes,  manners,  and  feelings.  C.  Au- 
gustus would  not  be  seen  walking  on  the  street 


116  THEN  AND  NOW 

with  a  poor  person,  ("common  people,"  he 
calls  them,)  nor  help  a  poor  woman  out  of  the 
mud  for  any  consideration.  The  old  man 
will  do  anything  that  he  believes  to  be  right, 
just  and  good  and  is  not  ashamed.  C. 
Augustus  would  rather  violate  the  laws  of  his 
country  than  the  laws  of  etiquette,  socalled, 
which  govern  society.  The  old  man  would 
not  violate  the  laws  of  the  land  under  anv  cir- 


"AND  WHEN  HE  LAYS  IT  DOWN  IT  LOOKS  LIKE 
A  THREE  YEAR  OLD  MULE  HAD  TROD  ON  IT." 

cumstances,  but  he  cares  not  a  fig  for  etiquette. 
He  does  not  know  what  it  means  and  he  does 
not  care. 

C.  Augustus  has  been  taught  in  his  book 
on  etiquette  that  none  but  the  most  horribly 
brutal  natures  ever  put  their  knives  in  their 
mouths  when  eating;  and  the  danger  to  which 
he  exposes  himself  of  cutting  his  cheek  clear 
back  to  his  ear  has  been  fully  impressed  upon 
him.  He  will  therefore  struggle  with  a  piece 
of  pie,  with  a  soggy,  tough,  sole-leather  bot- 


THEN  AND  NOW  117 

torn,  with  his  fork  for  an  hour  before  he  will 
dare  to  cut  or  lift  it  with  his  knife.  He  puts 
his  fork  in  his  mouth  with  impunity  because 
etiquette  has  never  warned  him  against  the 
danger  of  prodding  and  perforating  his  pharynx. 
The  old  man  eats  in  a  way  that  suits  himself. 
When  he  comes  to  pie,  instead  of  wallowing 
it  around  with  a  dull  fork  he  picks  it  up  with 
his  hand  by  that  part  which  represents  the 
are  of  a  circle,  and,  advancing  the  acute  angle 
into  his  capacious  mouth,  he  closes  on  it,  and 
when  he  lays  it  down  it  looks  like  a  three 
year  old  mule  had  trod  on  it. 

While  at  college  there  comes  all  at  once  the 
most  dreadful  news  to  C.  Augustus  and  Ara- 
bella from  home.  Their  father  has  been 
speculating,  is  caught  on  the  wrong  side,  is 
"pinched,"  "squeezed"  and  finally  "crushed," 
and  has  made  an  assignment  for  the  benefit 
of  his  creditors.  He  writes  that  he  "hasn't 
got  a  dollar  in  the  world."  C.  Augustus  and 
Arabella  may  flatter  themselves  that  "our  set" 
in  society  will  take  care  of  them;  but  poor, 
dear  things,  how  mistaken  they  are,  and  how 
little  they  know  about  a  society  to  which  they 
have  been  so  much  devoted.  Society  would 
have  done  anything  for  them  so  long  as  Col. 
Johnson  (their  Pa)  was  rich;  but  now  it  will 
do  nothing.  C.  Augustus  will  try  to  get  a 
place  in  the  store  where  he  can  still  keep  his 
hands  white  and  soft,  part  his  hair  at  the  noon- 
day point  and  talk  soft  nonsense  across  the 
counter  to  the  girls;  but  the  merchant  does 
not  want  a  young  man  who  has  learned  nothing, 
knows  nothing  and  can  do  nothing.  C. 
Augustus  then  begins  a  tiresome  job  for  Street, 


118  THEN  AND  NOW 

Walker  and  Dolittle.  He  becomes  a  "brick 
presser"  hunting  for  a  soft  place.  There  is 
plenty  of  work  at  good  wages  amongst  the 
farmers,  but,  oh,  no;  he  wouldn't  do  that  for 
the  world: 

"What  would  'our  set'  think  of  such  con- 
duct you  know." 

He  borrows  from  old  friends  until  they 
get  tired  and  refuse;  his  credit  for  clothing 
and  board  is  no  longer  good,  and  finally,  in 
his  desperation  he  goes  to  his  room,  writes 
his  parents  and  his  girl  a  pathetic  note  on  the 
"trials  of  life,"  of  which  he,  poor  fool,  knows 
nothing,  and  then  takes  a  pistol  and  blows 
his  poor  little  brains  into  batter. 

Arabella  visits  (at  her  own  invitation)  some 
of  her  girl  acquaintances  until  she  plainly  sees 
that  she  has  worn  out  her  welcome;  then 
she  decides  to  teach  music.  This  will  give 
her  a  living  and  still  keep  her  in  "good  society;" 
but  she  soon  finds  out  that  she  knows  little  or 
nothing  about  music.  She  has  learned  to 
"bang"  the  piano  as  she  learned  to  "bang" 
her  hair;  but  "banging"  the  piano  and  giv- 
ing other  people  the  toothache  will  not  do. 
She  tries  and  tries  again  and  fails.  Then 
she  retires  to  her  room  and  writes  a  pathetic 
note  to  Pa  and  Ma  and  dear  George  (who  is 
already  courting  another  girl)  takes  a  dose 
of  strychnia  and  turns  up  her  delicate,  taper- 
ing toes  to  the  nodding  daisies. 

This  is  a  sad,  sad  ending  of  the  once  pros- 
perous Johnson  family,  is  it  not,  reader? 

Now,  really  and  candidly,  what  was  the 
matter  here?  Why  should  two  young  people 
who  have  had  the  very  best  advantages  in 


THEN  AND  NOW  119 

life,  turn  around  at  the  first  little  trouble  and 
commit  self  destruction?  What  would  the  old 
pioneer,  the  hardy  founder  of  the  family, 
have  done  under  like  circumstances  ?  He  would 
have  taken  the  proper  implements  of  war  and 
would  have  plunged  into  the  forest  and  would 
there  have  grappled  with  the  trees,  the  streams 
and  the  wild  beasts  and  would  have  wrested 
from  them  the  right  to  continue  his  existence 
until  his  allotted  time  came.  The  great  mater- 
nal ancestor  would  have  done  something  but 
she  would  never  have  thought  of  strychnia  as 
a  remedy  for  her  ills.  Why  didn't  Arabella 
and  C.  Augustus  do  as  their  great  ancestors 
would  have  done  under  like  circumstances? 
Education,  dear  reader,  education.  They  had 
been  taught  that  people  in  their  "station" 
should  not  labor  under  any  circumstances. 
They  think  it  degrading  and  dishonorable. 

I  know  of  nothing  more  degrading  than  an 
education  like  that  and  nothing  more  dishon- 
orable than  that  which  results  from  such  an 
education.  There  may  be  circumstances  in 
which  the  best  and  most  sensible  thing  a  man  can 
do  is  to  take  his  own  life.  But  to  take  one's 
life  under  the  circumstances  herein  detailed 
is  dishonorable  and  cowardly  in  the  highest 
degree.  I  have  known  an  able  bodied  man 
with  a  wife  and  two  or. three  children  to  take 
his  own  life  in  a  most  cowardly  way,  because  he 
could  not  get  an  easy  job,  and  leave  the  poor 
wife  and  helpless  children  to  battle  alone  with 
an  unfeeling  and  unfriendly  world.  This  is 
a  most  cowardly  way  of  shirking  responsibilities 
and  a  most  dishonorable  refusal  to  "face  the 
music. " 


CHAPTER  VH 

SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS  AND 
FOOLISH  IDEAS 

ANTIQUITY  OF  SUPERSTITION — MAN  A  SUPER- 
STITIOUS ANIMAL — "SIGNS" — CROWING  HENS, 
BELLOWING  COWS,  ETC. — LOSING  HER  "CUD" 
— M'GEE'S  DIAGNOSIS — BIBLE  WITCHERY- 
RAISING  THE  PALATE — THE  SILVER  PLATE, 
ETC. — PASSING  THE  HANDKERCHIEF — NEGRO 
SUPERSTITIONS. 


UPERSTITION  is  of 
great  antiquity.  The 
young  world  was  very 
ignorant  and  ignorance 
is  the  foundation  of  super- 
stition. Unlearned  men  in 
'the  earlier  ages  of  the  world, 
witnessing  natural  phenomena 
and  not  being  able  to  give  a 
rational  explanation,  attrib- 
uted their  occurrence  to 
supernatural  causes.  The 
history  of  the  world  and  the 
greatest  achievements  of  the  greatest  men  that 
have  ever  lived,  are  blotted  and  blurred  all 
over  with  acts  grounded  in  the  darkest  super- 
stition. The  histories  of  the  Greeks,  the  Romans 
and  the  early  German  races  show  them  to  have 
been  so  full  of  superstition  that  we  are  made 
to  wonder  how  they  could  have  been  great. 
The  man,  in  our  day,  who  would  decide  upon 


122        SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC. 

going  to  war  or  upon  bringing  on  a  battle,  or 
any  other  important  matter,  by  the  turn  of  a 
blaze  of  fire  or  something  else  as  foolish,  would 
not  be  tolerated  and  would  not  be  allowed  at 
the  head  of  affairs  in  any  position,  civil  or  mili- 
tary, any  longer  than  it  would  take  to  appoint 
his  successor. 

The  most  enlightened  people  of  the  present 
day  have  descended  from  an  ancestry,  either 
near  or  remote,  who  were  ignorant,  and  there- 
fore superstitious.  The  superstitious  ideas  of 
those  ancestors  have  come  down  as  a  part  of 
the  inheritance,  and  many  persons  of  education 
will  suffer  themselves  to  be  impressed  and  in- 
fluenced by  them  almost  in  spite  of  themselves. 

The  gamblers,  who,  as  a  rule,  are  a  shrewd 
and  smart  set,  are  blindly  superstitious  con- 
cerning many  trivial  things  in  connection  with 
their  vocation. 

If  people  are  superstitious  concerning  any- 
thing they  are  sure  to  be  so  concerning  medicine, 
sickness  and  remedies.  In  my  early  recollec- 
tion there  were  some  very  strange  superstitions 
— some  in  connection  with  sickness  and  medi- 
cine, some  that  were  not.  Many  of  those  things 
are  believed  by  many  people  yet — not  only  in 
the  West,  but  in  the  East — everywhere. 

A  belief  in  ghosts  and  witches  was  not  dead 
in  the  second  quarter  of  the  present  century 
and  it  is  not  dead  yet — everywhere.  In  the 
backwoods,  forty  years  ago,  a  belief  in  such 
things  was  quite  common,  and  there  were 
"signs"  innumerable — a  "sign"  for  this  and 
a  "sign"  for  that — bad  signs  in  particular.  It 
was  a  bad  sign  to  see  the  new,  full  moon  through 
a  tree  top  or  through  anything  that  obscured 


SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC.        123 

it;  but  if  you  could  see  it  for  the  first  time 
full  and  fair  over  the  right  shoulder  it  brought 
good  luck.  It  was  a  bad  sign  for  any  one  of 
the  household  to  take  up  a  chair  and  twirl  it 
around  on  one  of  its  legs.  It  was  a  bad  sign 
for  a  male  person  to  come  into  the  house  with 
an  axe  or  hoe  or  any  sharp  implement  on  his 
shoulder.  He  must  either  go  straight  through, 
if  there  were  an  opposite  door,  or  back  out  the 
way  he  came;  but,  in  the  name  of  all  the 
Deities,  he  must  not  take  the  implement  from 
his  shoulder  until  he  was  outside  again. 

There  was  a  superstition  in  regard  to  crow- 
ing hens  and  bellowing  cows.  It  is  a  fact  that, 
from  some  cause  or  other — the  breaking  up 
of  her  nest  or  the  loss  of  her  chickens  or  some 
such  calamity  that  befalls  her — a  hen  will  take 
it  into  her  head  to  crow  and  will  go  about 
crowing  in  a  wild,  boisterous  and  insane  way, 
for  days;  and  that  a  cow  will  also  try  to  assume 
the  functions  of  a  male  by  going  about  and 
bellowing.  We  see  the  same  things  sometimes 
in  certain  women,  who  seem  to  desire  to  as- 
sume the  functions  of  the  stronger  sex,  and 
they  generally  succeed  about  as  well  as  the 
hen  and  the  cow — for  I  never  heard  a  hen  crow 
nor  a  cow  bellow  that  could  deceive  me  for 
a  moment. 

These  crowing  hens  and  bellowing  cows 
were  a  great  terror  to  the  superstitious.  Some- 
thing was  going  to  happen;  somebody  was 
going  to  die;  the  hen  must  be  killed,  and 
the  cow  (being  too  valuable  to  kill)  must  be 
beaten  away  from  the  place  with  sticks  and 
stones.  If  a  bird  flew  into  the  house  it  was  a 
sign  that  some  one  was  going  to  die.  If  a 


124        SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC. 

person  were  sick  and  one  of  these  messengers 
(taking  refuge  in  its  terrorized  flight  from  a 
pursuing  hawk)  flew  into  the  house,  it  was  a 
very  bad  sign.  It  did  no  good  to  cite  the  fact 
that  nobody  got  sick,  or  that  the  sick  person 
got  well,  after  one  of  these  strange  visitations. 
It  was  still  a  bad  sign. 

There  were  "faith  doctors"  in  those  days. 
They  cured  everything — especially  the  maladies 
that  are  incurable.  Cancer  was  their  great 
forte.  They  did  nothing  but  simply  look  at 
the  patient  and,  perhaps,  lay  a  hand  on  him. 
If  one  person  in  a  thousand  who  visited  these 
reputed  faith  doctors  recovered,  it  was  sufficient 
to  forever  establish  the  reputation  of  the  "doc- 
tor. "  There  are  "faith  doctors"  now,  but  there 
are  not  so  many,  I  hope,  who  believe  in  them. 

The  people  had  a  peculiar  idea  about  a 
cow  "losing  her  cud."  If  a  cow  got  sick  from 
any  cause  there  were  the  knowing  ones  who 
were  ready  to  declare  that  she  had  "lost  her 
cud."  They  knew  the  symptoms.  They  did 
not  know  that  a  cow  has  three  stomachs,  and 
that  the  first  and  largest  is  only  a  great  recep- 
tacle into  which  she  hurriedly  passes  her  food 
when  feeding,  and  that  she  afterwards,  when 
quietly  standing  or  lying,  belches  up  a  mass 
and  chews  it  and  then,  by  swallowing  it  in 
proper  condition  passes  it  into  the  second 
stomach,  and  that,  in  case  she  should  drop 
her  cud  from  any  cause,  all  she  would  have 
to  do  would  be  to  simply  belch  to  get  another 
or  in  case  the  first  stomach  were  empty,  to  go 
and  eat  something. 

There  were  people  who  professed  to  be  able 
to  give  a  cow  her  lost  cud.  These  were  gen- 


SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC.        125 

erally  old  women  and  negroes.  If  the  old 
woman  were  quite  old,  lean  and  skinny,  so 
much  the  better.  I  have  seen  those  cuds. 
They  were  made,  generally,  of  fat  meat,  horse 
hair  and  some  other  things  which  a  cow  never 
eats  when  she  is  well,  and  which,  one  would 
think,  would  be  calculated  to  make  a  cow 
sick  if  given  to  her  when  she  was  well.  It  is 
pitiful  to  think  how  the  poor  brutes  suffered 
while  those  ignorant  people  were  ramming  this 
nasty  mass  down  their  poor  throats. 

A  few  years  ago  I  wrote  a  series  of  papers 
under  the  heading  of  "Popular  Fallacies," 
for  a  local  paper,  and  in  one  of  them  exposed 
this  very  subject.  The  next  morning  I  met  a 
friend,  a  very  intelligent  gentleman,  who  was 
at  that  time  the  General  Passenger  Agent  of  a 
great  railroad.  He  said  to  me,  "Doctor,  I 
read  your  article  and  I  am  glad  you  wrote  it; 
for  I  have  a  sick  cow  and  there  was  a  negro 
man  at  my  house  making  her  a  new  cud  while 
I  was  reading  it.  I  instantly  went  out  and 
stopped  him.  The  negro  thinks  you  are  wrong, 
but  your  explanation  satisfied  me." 

In  a  neighborhood  where  I  once  lived  there 
was  an  Irishman  who  professed  to  be  a  veter- 
inary surgeon.  They  did  not  call  them  veter- 
inary surgeons  in  those  days;  they  were  horse 
farriers.  The  Irishman  c}id  not  know  anything 
about  the  diseases  of  animals,  but  he  was  full 
of  the  superstitious  nonsense  of  those  days. 
Among  other  things  he  knew  how  to  "give  r 
cow  her  cud."  But  Mac  was  destined  to  come 
to  grief. 

He  was  sent  for  in  the  caae  of  a  sick  cow. 
After  a  most  critical  examination  of  the  cow  he 


126        SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC. 

exclaimed,  "Phy,  yez  ought  to  know  phat's 
the  matter  wid  the  cow;  she's  loisth  her  cood." 
He  at  once  prepared  the  abominable  bolus 
which  was  to  supply  the  "loisth  cood."  He 
thrust  it  down  her  throat  as  well  as  he  could 
with  his  hand  and  arm  and  then  took  the  butt 
end  of  a  black  snake  whip  and  used  it  as  a 


"EF  YEZ  NEVER  SEEN  A  COW  PHAT'S  DIED  FROM 
THE  LOSIN'  AV  HER  COOD  YEZ  SEE  IT  NOW." 

ram  rod.  He  either  made  his  substitute  too 
large  or  he  got  it  into  the  windpipe — the  cow, 
after  a  short  struggle,  straightened  out  and  died. 
Some  one  remarked,  "She's  dead."  After 
contemplating  her  very  seriously  for  a  few  mo- 
ments McGee  said,  "Yes,  she's  dead;  an'  ef 
yez  never  seen  a  cow  phat's  died  from  the 
losin'  av  her  cood  yez  see  it  now,"  and  he  de- 
parted. 


SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC.        127 

But  the  cause  of  the  death  was  too  plain. 

At  another  time  there  was  a  public  sale  in 
the  neighborhood.  There  was  a  great  crowd. 
Somebody's  horse  took  sick  with  colic,  or  some- 
thing more  serious.  The  horse  was  lying  down 
and  there  was  a  great  crowd  around  him,  each 
man  suggesting  a  different  remedy,  and  each 
clinching  the  argument  in  favor  of  his  abomina- 
tion by  the  statement  that  he  "never  knowed 
it  to  fail." 

Mac  was  walking  around  on  the  outside  of 
the  crowd  with  a  sort  of  assumed  professional 
air,  expecting  to  be  called,  but  everybody  knew 
about  the  cow  "that  died  from  losin'  av  her 
cood,"  and  the  owner  was  afraid  of  Mac's 
heroic  remedies. 

Finally  the  horse  died.  The  crowd  broke 
up  and  separated.  As  I  walked  away  along- 
side of  Mac  I  said,  "Well,  Mac,  the  horse 
died." 

"Phy,  av  coorse  the  harse  died,"  said  Mac 
indignantly,  "Av  coorse  he  died,  an'  there 

wasn't  a  d wan  o'  yez  that  knowed  phat 

was  the  matther  wid  urn." 

"What  do  you  think  was  the  matter  with 
him,  Mac?"  I  innocently  asked. 

"Phat  do  I  think?"  exclaimed  Mac,  still 
more  indignant,  "Phat  do  I  think?  I  don't 
think,  I  know;  but  not  a  d — n  wan  o'  yez 
knowed  phat  wus  the  matter  wid  um;  not  a 

d wan  o'   yez.     No   wundther  the   harse 

died!" 

"Well,"  I  asked,  "what  was  the  matter  with 
him,  Mac?" 

"Phat  was  the  matther  wid  um?"  asked 
Mac.  "Phy  it  was  plain  enough  to  anny  man 


128        SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC. 

that's  got  his  two  eyes  in  his  head;  the  trouble 
was  the  hairt  lay  too  near  the  midriff,  an'  fin 
the  hairt  bate,  the  ligament  jumped  off  the 
spine  and  the  hairt  quit  batin'  an'  the  harse 
died.  Anny  d fool  ought  to  know  that." 

I  must  beg  pardon  for  indicating  Mac's 
profanity  here,  but  his  statement  of  the  etiology 
and  pathology  of  the  case  would  be  incom- 
plete without  it. 

There  are  some  things  which  people  believe 
in  regard  to  medicine  which  might  be  viewed 
in  the  light  of  ignorant  tradition  merely,  and 
yet  they  are  so  absurd  that  one  must  be  super- 
stitious in  order  to  believe  them. 

There  are  thousands  of  people  in  the  world 
who  have  an  unfaltering  faith  in  certain  barks 
— sometimes  I  find  it  one  kind  of  bark,  some- 
times another;  but  the  virtues  attributed  to  it 
are  that,  if  peeled  upward  and  a  tea  made  of 
it,  it  will  act  as  an  emetic,  and  if  peeled  down- 
ward it  will  act  as  a  cathartic. 

There  was  one  superstition  with  which  I 
became  acquainted  when  a  boy,  and  I  have 
met  it  everywhere.  It  is  the  process  of  stop- 
ping hemorrhage  by  a  kind  of  ceremony,  the 
operator,  or  the  person  who  is  doing  the  hemo- 
static  act,  not  being  necessarily  present  with  the 
bleeding  person.  In  my  boyhood  there  was  a 
woman  in  almost  every  neighborhood  who  pre- 
tended to  be  blessed  with  this  very  desirable 
accomplishment. 

The  operation  consisted  in  repeating  a  cer- 
tain verse,  or  verses,  in  a  certain  chapter  in 
some  part  of  the  Bible.  The  power  to  do  this 
could  be  communicated  to  another;  but  could 
not  be  given  by  a  woman  to  a  woman,  nor  to 


SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC.        129 

a  man  by  a  man.  The  secret  was  given  me  by  a 
woman  once  but,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  that,  since  I 
have  been  ligating  arteries  and  veins  with  silk 
and  cat-gut,  I  have  forgotten  the  magic  verse. 

These  people  often  succeed — in  their  minds — 
because  most  small  hemorrhages  cease  without 
interference. 

Only  a  few  years  ago  a  reputable  medical 
friend  of  mine  was  attending  a  man  for  an 
extensive  cellulitis  of  the  leg  and  thigh.  When 
the  case  was  at  its  worst  and  he  expected  to  use 
the  lancet  at  the  next  visit  a  boy  came  into  his 
office  and  said: 

"Dr.  J.  you  needn't  come  up  to  Mr.  L's 
this  morning." 

"Why,"  asked  the  doctor,  "is  L.  dead?" 

"No,"  answered  the  boy,  "but  Mrs.  M.  is 
a  doctorin'  him." 

"Who  is  Mrs.  M.?"  the  doctor  inquired. 

"Oh,  she's  a  woman  that  lives  acrost  the 
street." 

"What  does  she  know  about  it?"  the  doctor 
asked. 

"Oh,  she  knows  lots.  She's  cured  more'n 
a  hundred  cases  like  it.  She's  got  somethin' 
that  never  fails." 

"What  is  she  doing  for  it?"  was  asked. 

"Why,  she  tied  a  silk  string  around  his  leg 
and  read  some  verses  over  it  out  of  the  Bible." 

Now,  my  intelligent  reader  may  be  ready 
to  exclaim  that  this  sort  of  blind  and  ignorant 
superstition  could  not  occur  anywhere  except 
in  the  uncultured  West. 

For  the  benefit  of  such  person  I  will  truth- 
fully state  that  Mrs.  M.,  the  sorceress  in  this 
case,  was  from  the  cultured  East. 


130       SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC 

There  is  also  a  false  and  very  foolish  belief 
among  the  laity  about  "the  palate  coming 
down."  In  some  forms  of  posterior  nasal  and 
throat  inflammations  there  is  a  very  serious 
choking  sensation.  In  such  cases  many  think 
that  the  "palate  has  come  down,"  and  many 
and  ludicrous  are  the  methods  resorted  to  to 
"raise  the  palate  up." 

I  have  not  the  space  to  record  all  of  them, 
but  will  give  one: 

I  was  called  once  in  my  early  practice  to 
see  a  boy,  who,  the  messenger  said,  "had  got 
his  palate  down  and  couldn't  get  it  up. "  When 
I  arrived  at  the  house  I  found  the  whole  family 
assembled  in  one  room  and  all  very  much  ex- 
cited. In  one  corner  of  the  room,  near  an 
open  window,  sat  the  unhappy  victim  of  this 
curious  accident,  and  an  old  lady  (of  course 
such  a  delicate  operation  could  not  be  entrusted 
to  anyone  except  the  old  lady  "who  had  nussed 
more  sick  folks  than  anybody  else  in  the  neigh- 
borhood") standing  over  him,  with  a  stick, 
twice  as  large  as  a  pencil  and  six  inches  long, 
twisted  into  a  wisp  of  hair  on  the  crown  of  his 
head. 

"I  got  it  up  jest  so  fur  an'  couldn't  git  it 
any  furder;  so  I  jest  hilt  it  where  I  had  it  an' 
waited  fur  you  to  come." 

The  boy's  face  was  flushed,  his  eyes  pro- 
truding and  his  mouth  wide  open.  There  was 
an  expression  of  fear  and  apprehension  on  his 
face,  as  if  he  expected  "to  hear  somethin'  pop" 
when  the  palate  went  back. 

The  old  lady  gave  an  extra  hitch  on  her 
stick  and  the  boy's  eyes  bulged  out  a  little 
more  and  he  raised  up  about  two  inches  off 


SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC.        131 

the  chair.  I  untwisted  the  stick  and  swabbed 
his  throat  with  a  solution  of  nitrate  of  silver 
and  the  "palate  went  back"  in  a  very  short 
time. 

Certain  persons  also  have  unbounded  faith 
in  dog  oil,  snake  oil  and  fish  worms,  as  ingre- 
dients for  liniments  for  rheumatism  and  for 
swellings  about  joints.  If  I  remember  aright 


"I  GOT  IT  UP  JEST  SO  FUR  AN'  COULDN'T 
GIT  IT  ANY  FURDER." 

these  same  things  and  others  still  more  ridicu- 
lous were  extolled  as  remedies  by  Aristotle 
centuries  ago. 

In  my  early  practice  I  was  called  to  see  a 
sick  man  at  a  saw  mill.  He  was  a  strapping 
big  fellow,  and  had  been  down  with  articular 
rheumatism  for  some  time.  As  I  was  the 
second  physician  in  the  case,  the  other  hav- 


132        SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC. 

ing  failed  to  do  him  good,  I  was  doubly  anx- 
ious to  relieve  him.  I  think  I  saw  the  case 
three  times  and  then  gave  orders  for  the  family 
to  report  to  me.  I  heard  nothing  of  the  case 
for  several  months  and  so  concluded  that  my 
last  prescription  had  done  the  work.  One 
day,  three  months  afterwards,  this  big  fellow 
walked  into  my  office  with  an  air  of  bravado 
and  a  swaggering  gait  which  I  took  to  be 
natural  with  him.  I  did  not  recognize  him 
until  he  gave  his  name. 

"Oh,  yes,  Williamson,"  I  said,  "you  are 
the  man  who  had  rheumatism  so  bad.  The 
last  medicine  did  the  work  did  it?  I  thought 
it  would." 

"Naw,  sir,"  said  Williamson,  leaning  back 
in  his  chair  and  unbuttoning  his  vest.  "Naw, 
sir,  it  didn't  do  me  no  good  at  all.  Ef  I'd  a 
depended  on  you  doctors  I'd  a  been  dead, 
long  ago.  But  I've  found  somethin'  that  will 
knock  it  as  cold  as  a  wedge;  an'  what's  more 
it'll  knock  it  every  time.  Look  at  that,"  said 
he,  as  he  triumphantly  went  down  to  his 
waist  and  untied  and  brought  forth  a  rattle- 
snake skin  which  he  had  been  wearing  under 
his  clothing  as  a  belt. 

There  was  no  use  arguing  the  case.  The 
facts  were  against  me.  The  most  that  I  could 
do  was  to  present  Williamson  with  his  bill, 
which  he  paid  under  protest. 

Many  people  have  a  tradition  about  a 
silver  plate  being  put  in  the  skull  in  place  of 
bone  lost  in  injuries  to  the  head.  In  every 
neighborhood  that  I  have  lived  in  there  has 
been  some  person  who  either  believed  or 
affected  to  believe  that  he  was  wearing  a  silver 


SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC.        133 

plate.  I  knew  two  or  three  of  those  silver 
plated  fellows  in  my  boyhood,  and  so  I  grew 
up  a  strong  convert  to  the  silver  plate  theory, 
which  I  strenuously  held  until  it  was  lectured 
out  of  me  by  an  eminent  surgeon.  So  strong 
is  this  belief  with  most  people  that  many  a 
country  doctor  loses  his  popularity  in  cases 
where  he  must  remove  large  portions  of  frac- 
tured skull  in  recent  injuries.  The  bystanders 
will  insist  that  he  ought  to  do  it,  and,  if  the  pa- 
tient dies  afterward,  they  are  apt  to  attribute 
the  death  to  the  fact  that  the  silver  plate  was 
omitted.  The  local  papers  in  my  town  a  few 
years  ago,  in  giving  accounts  of  accidents  to 
different  persons  in  whom  the  skull  was  frac- 
tured, repeated  the  statement  that  "the  doc- 
tor skillfully  inserted  a  silver  plate  to  replace 
the  lost  bone." 

They  finally  stated  that  I  had  performed 
this  wonderful  operation  on  one  of  my  patients 
who  had  suffered  from  a  fracture  of  the  skull 
with  the  loss  of  a  large  amount  of  bone.  I 
had  my  fears  that,  perhaps,  the  profession 
had  lent  itself  to  this  fraud  by  not  denying 
it.  Many  doctors  are  willing  to  take  the 
credit  of  having  done  brilliant  things — whether 
they  have  done  them  or  not.  I  presume  that 
I  am  as  willing  as  any  one  to  take  credit  to 
myself  for  what  I  actually  do.  I  think  that 
is  both  laudable  and  defensible,  but  I  never 
saw  the  day  when  I  desired  to  profit  by  a  false- 
hood and  by  the  propagation  of  an  unrea- 
sonable and  lying  theory.  Feeling  that  the 
truth  about  this  thing,  as  about  all  things, 
ought  to  be  known  I  wrote  an  article  for  the 
paper  denying  that  I  had  done  such  an  opera- 


134        SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC. 

tion,  and  stating  positively  that  no  such  opera- 
tion had  ever  been  successfully  performed — 
giving  scientific  reasons  as  to  why  it  could  not 
succeed,  and  concluded  by  offering  one  thou- 
sand dollars  for  the  production  of  a  single 
case  where  the  fact  of  the  successful  perform- 
ance of  such  an  operation  could  be  demon- 
strated. 

My  office  was  besieged  for  a  week  with 
people  of  all  grades  of  society — learned  and 
unlearned — claiming  the  reward.  They  all 
knew  people  with  silver  bearing  crania,  but 
they  neglected  to  bring  them  along. 

An  intelligent  minister — with  a  collegiate 
education — knew  three  persons  who  had  silver 
in  their  heads.  They  all  wanted  the  reward, 
but  no  one  could  bring  a  patient  with  a  quar- 
ter in  his  skull.  Of  course,  I  sat  back  and 
read  my  terms  from  the  paper  and  said, 
"bring  on  your  man,  demonstrate  the  fact 
and  get  your  money." 

Nobody  could  do  it. 

A  most  ridiculous  circumstance  happened 
to  me  about  a  year  after  this. 

Coming  out  of  my  office  one  afternoon  I 
met  one  of  those  self  conceited  and  trifling 
sort  of  fellows  who  hang  about  the  street  cor- 
ners on  pretense  of  awaiting  employment  and 
run  at  the  first  approach  of  an  employer; 
who  hang  about  saloons  and  salute  all  respect- 
able looking  men  who  approach  the  bar  with 
friendly  recognition  and  effusive  compliments, 
with  the  expectation  of  a  treat,  while  their 
poor  slab  sided  wives  take  in  washing.  This 
fellow  had  the  deeply  imprinted  lines  about 
the  corners  of  his  mouth  of  an  egotistical  ass, 


SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC.        135 

and  natural  born  liar  written  in  an  indelible 
hand  all  over  his  face.  He  introduced  me  to 
a  fellow  lounger,  much  like  himself,  but  not 
quite  so  talkative. 

"Ef  ye  ever  want  a  doctor,"  said  he  to  his 
friend,  "here's  the  man  that  can  raise  ye 
from  the  dead.  He  can  come  as  near  to  it 
as  the  next  'un.  Jest  as  soon  cut  yer  leg  off 
as  to  look  at  ye.  I've  seed  the  Doc.  in  blood 
up  to  his  eyes  and,  you  bet,  he  never  flinches. 
I  seed  him  take  out  a  hull  lot  of  a  feller's 
skull  onst,  an'  putin'  a  big  silver  plate  in  its 
place.  The  Doc.  tho't  I  wusn't  loo  kin',  but 
I  seed  'im  when  he  done  it.  You  bet  he's 
sly,  ef  he  ain't  afeard." 

This  compliment  was  too  much;  I  didn't 
deny  it  and  went  away  feeling  like  a  sneak. 

I  think  popular  prejudice  in  favor  of  this 
standing  falsehood  springs  from  this  fact: 
In  injuries  to  the  skull  where  a  part  of  the 
outer  table  is  lost  it  is  frequently  the  case 
that  \he  periosteum  (the  covering  of  the  bone) 
is  not  destroyed;  and  from  this,  and  also  from 
the  bone  itself,  new  bone  is  formed.  The 
friends  and  neighbors  stand  by  during  the 
operation  and  see  a  large  portion  of  the  outer 
table  removed  and  may,  perhaps,  keep  the 
bone.  When  the  person  recovers,  with  the 
lost  substance  replaced  by  a  growth  of  new 
bone,  and  they  find  that  there  is  no  depres- 
sion where  they  think  there  ought  to  be,  they 
can  not  account  for  this  unexpected  condi- 
tion of  things  on  any  other  hypothesis  than 
that  "the  doctor  slipped  a  piece  of  silver  in 
when  we  wusn't  lookin'."  They  know  nothing 
of  the  reformation  of  bone  and  they  would 


136        SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC. 

as  soon  vexpect  to  see  his  great  toe  grow  out 
again,  after  being  amputated,  as  to  see  bone 
reform.  The  neighborhood  liar,  who  is  always 
present  at  an  accident,  a  circus  or  a  dog  fight, 
takes  advantage  of  the  occasion  and  says  he 
"saw  the  Doc.  when  he  put  the  silver  in  the 
hole.  He  tho't  I  wusn't  -lookin',  but  I  seen 
him  when  he  done  it."  This  lie  is  accepted 
as  evidence,  as  it  seems  to  explain  what  they 
do  not  otherwise  understand,  and  hence  the 
delusion.  The  man  with  the  injured  skull 
hears  the  story,  feels  of  his  head,  and  says, 
"Yes,  I  guess  it's  so,"  and  soon  begins  to 
exhibit  himself  as  a  man  with  a  silver  plate 
in  his  skull  and  ever  after  he  is  a  living  lie. 

Some  people  have  a  strong  prejudice  in 
favor  of  blowing  a  silk  handerkerchief  through 
the  chest  in  case  of  gun  shot  wound  of  that 
part  of  the  body.  In  the  first  case  of  gunshot 
wound  that  I  ever  treated  I  met  this  difficulty 
and  got  badly  worsted.  I  believe  this  bar- 
barous practice  used  to  be  resorted  to,  but  it 
took  its  exit  along  with  the  practice  of  im- 
mersing amputated  stumps  in  boiling  tar 
and  searing  them  with  white  hot  irons. 

I  was  called  to  see  a  young  man  who  had 
been  shot  under  the  following  circumstances: 

He  went  out  "turkey  calling"  just  at  day- 
light. 

Hunters  and  frontiersmen  hunt  the  turkey 
in  this  way  when  he  is  strutting  in  the  spring 
of  the  year.  They  make  what  they  call  a 
"cowker,"  or  "caller"  out  of  a  bone  of  some 
part  of  the  body  of  the  turkey,  and,  with  this 
in  the  mouth  they  imitate  the  turkey  so  clev- 
erly that  they  deceive  the  very  elect — the  tur- 


SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC         137 

key  himself.  There  happened  to  be  two 
young  men  out  on  this  particular  morning 
(both  ex-members  of  the  3d  Wisconsin  Regi- 
ment) who  got  to  calling  each  other — each 
taking  the  other  for  a  turkey.  One  had  on 
a  blue  army  blouse  and  was  hidden  behind  a 
bunch  of  sprouts,  and  the  other  was  coming 
up  behind  him.  The  latter  saw  him  in  the 
uncertain  grey  mist  of  the  morning  and  blazed 
away.  A  bullet  from  a  large  Indian  rifle 
passed  through  the  right  lung  from  behind 
and  emerged  near  the  nipple.  When  I  reached 
his  home,  to  which  he  had  been  carried,  I 
found  a  large  crowd  of  curious  neighbors 
there. 

Amongst  them  was  a  fellow  who  had  been 
a  fellow-comrade  in  the  same  regiment.  He 
had  about  his  face  the  unmistakable  lines 
indicating  the  common  liar  and  the  egotisti- 
cal donkey.  He  put  numerous  questions  to 
me  while  I  bandaged  the  young  man's  chest 
and  *  gave  him  an  opiate.  He  asked  me, 
among  other  things,  if  I  was  going  to  "blow 
a  silk  handkercher  through  his  chest." 

I  answered  that  I  was  not  and  went  on 
with  my  work. 

When  I  went  home  I  found  him  in  the 
yard  entertaining  a  crowd  of  interested  spec- 
totors.  He  was  standing  with  his  legs  far 
apart,  his  chin  thrust  forward  and  I  could 
see  the  index  finger  of  his  right  hand  come 
down  into  the  palm  of  his  left  occasionally  as 
he  emphasized  his  remarks.  He  was  laying 
for  me  and,  on  seeing  me,  motioned  me  to 
approach.  When  I  entered  the  circle  of -his 
auditors  he  asked: 


138        SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC. 

"Doc.,  ain't  you  a  goin'  to  blow  a  hand- 
kercher  through  his  chest?" 

I  answered  that  I  was  not. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "they  always  done  it  after 
a  battle  in  the  army.  I  have  helped  old  Doc- 
tor Mott,  of  New  York,  do  it  a  hundred  times." 

"What  good  does  it  do?"  I  asked. 


"DOC,  AIN'T  YOU  A  GOIN'  TO  BLOW  A  HAND- 
KERCHER  THROUGH  HIS  CHEST?" 

I  have  always  found  it  a  good  plan  to  put 
these  smart  people  on  the  witness  stand  and 
let  them  throw  themselves;  but  I  got  caught 
here. 

"What  good  will  it  do?"  he  repeated  after 
me,  affecting  great  astonishment.  "I  should 
think  you  ought  to  know,"  he  continued, 


SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC.        139 

"that  it  will  keep  the  corpuscum  from  diago- 
latiri1  on  the  diaphragm!" 

I  still  maintained  my  ground  and  asked, 

"What  does  that  mean?" 

He  looked  at  me  with  eyes  wide  open,  and 
seemingly  paralyzed  with  astonishment,  and 
exclaimed : 

"Well,  young  man,  ef  you  are  a  doctor  an' 
don't  know  what  that  means  you'd  better 
quit!" 

In  the  language  of  Micawber,  I  was"floored." 
There  was  no  answer  to  that  outburst  of  learned 
indignation,  except  with  a  club,  but  in  keep- 
ing with  my  usually  mild  and  gentle  nature  I 
didn't  kill  him.  The  scoundrel  may  be  living 
yet.  If  so  he  owes  his  life  to  the  fact  that 
the  writer  is  a  lineal  descendant  in  a  direct 
line  from  a  party  by  the  name  of  Job,  who 
used  to  live  at  Uz. 

There  is  a  practice  among  the  midwives  and 
old  "grannies"  of  the  West  (and  everywhere 
else,*  I  presume)  of  shaking  new  born  infants 
for  an  imaginary  disease  which  they  call  "liver 
grown."  If  the  new  born  infant  does  not  do 
well  they  assume  that  "its  liver  has  growed 
to  its  side."  They  essay  to  remedy  this  imag- 
ined difficulty  by  turning  the  poor  tender  thing 
upside  down;  then,  holding  it  by  the  heels  they 
give  it  a  slow,  downward  movement,  as  if  they 
would  drop  it,  and  then  suddenly  jerk  it  upward. 
This  they  repeat  several  times.  If  the  child 
gets  well  they  "broke  it  loose;"  but  if  it  dies 
"it  was  growed  so  tight  that  it  couldn't  be 
"broke."  A  great  number  of  times  I  have 
prevented  this  cruel  performance;  many  times, 
I  believe  it  has  been  done,  in  my  absence^ 


140        SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC. 

with  my  own  little  patients,  in  spite  of  me, 
and  so  no  doubt,  with  all  other  physicians. 
But  I  can  not  dismiss  this  subject  without 
referring,  briefly,  to  the  superstitions  of  the 
negroes.  They  have  some  superstitious  ideas 
which  their  ancestors  evidently  brought  from 
Africa,  and  which  have  been  handed  down 
from  generation  to  generation.  The  one  thing 
which  worries  the  negro  more  than  any  other 
is,  perhaps,  the  fear  of  being  "conjured." 
They  have  a  belief  that  certain  persons  (gen- 
erally of  their  own  race)  have  the  power  to 
"conjure"  them,  or  "put  a  spell"  on  them, 
and  they  are  so  impressed  with  this  belief 
sometimes,  and  it  takes  such  complete  posses- 
sion of  them  that,  I  am  credibly  informed 
they  actually  dwindle  away  and  die.  The 
person  feared  is  generally  a  "red  eyed  nig- 
ger." We  see  negroes  occasionally  who  (like 
some  white  people)  have  large  hemorrhagic 
points  in  the  "whites"  of  their  eyes.  The 
more  ignorant  negroes  are  in  perfect  terror  of 
these  "red  eyed  niggers."  The  conjuring  is 
generally  done,  as  they  think,  by  the  conjurer 
placing  certain  articles — sometimes  one  thing, 
sometimes  another;  sometimes  wrapped  in  a 
package,  sometimes  placed  in  a  phial  or  bottle, 
and  placed  in  a  path  where  the  victim  is  known 
to  travel  and  permitting  him  to  unconsciously 
step  over  it. 

The  negroes  sometimes  carry  very  queer 
things  about  their  persons  to  prevent  the  opera- 
tion of  the  conjurer's  spell.  The  rabbit's  foot 
is  deemed  to  be  the  best  among  the  counter 
charms,  though  the  mole's  foot  stands  high 
with  many. 


SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC.        141 

I  held  an  inquest  a  few  years  ago  on  the 
body  of  a  stalwart  negro  man,  who  had  died 
suddenly.  He  was  a  man  of  more  than  ordi- 
nary intelligence  for  one  of  his  race  ajid  was  a 
leader  in  colored  church  circles.  In  one  of 
his  pockets  I  found  a  small  wad  securely 
wrapped  and  tied  with  a  string.  Cutting  the 
string  and  removing  the  outer  wrap  I  came  to 
a  piece  of  buckskin;  and  under  this  was  a 
wrap  of  red  flannel,  and  inside  the  flannel  was 
a  lodestone  or  magnet  with  a  great  number  of 
iron  or  steel  filings  adhering  to  it.  This  was, 
no  doubt,  a  highly  prized  charm,  and  was 
intended  to  keep  off  the  spell  of  the  conjurer. 

While  traveling  on  a  Missouri  Pacific  Rail- 
way train  a  few  years  ago  I  noticed  a  negro 
woman  get  off  at  a  way  station.  Soon  after 
she  had  done  so  the  porter  found  a  small  pocket 
book  in  the  seat  which  she  had  occupied.  He 
brought  it  to  the  conductor  who  asked  me  to 
witness  its  contents,  as  there  might  be  a  claim 
that  something  was  missing.  When  it  was 
opened  the  contents  were  found  to  be  a  quarter 
of  a  dollar  and — a  rabbits  foot!  She  was,  no 
doubt,  in  great  distress  until  she  recovered  that 
rabbit's  foot. 

Some  negroes  who  are  sharper  than  the  rest 
of  their  race  and  who  are  utterly  unscrupulous, 
make  money  by  preparing  these  charms,  which 
resist  the  power  of  the  conjurer's  spell  and 
bring  good  luck  to  the  possessor. 

The  negro  has  a  mortal  fear  of  the  cat  under 
certain  circumstances.  If  one  of  the  more 
superstitious  sees  a  cat  cross  the  road  or  street 
ahead  of  him  he  will  traverse  an  unreasonable 
distance  in  the  country,  or  go  any  number  of 


142        SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC. 

blocks  in  town,  in  order  to  head  the  cat  off  so 
as  not  to  cross  its  path. 

They  impress  many  of  their  superstitious 
ideas  upon  the  white  children  with  whom  they 
come  in  contact,  for  childhood  is  a  rich  field 
in  which  to  sow  the  seeds  of  superstition — and 
it  takes  hard  work  in  after  years  to  educate 
it  out  of  them. 

It  a  negro  baby  is  having  trouble  in  cutting 
its  teeth,  the  mothers  procure  the  brain  of  a 
rabbit  and  rub  it  on  the  gums  so  as  "to  make 
de  teef  come  froo  easy." 

I  have  had  any  number  of  white  mothers 
consult  me  about  this  matter,  desiring  to  use 
it  on  their  babies  if  I  thought  it  would  do 
good.  In  every  instance  I  found  that  they  got 
the  idea  from  a  colored  nurse,  or  a  colored 
washer-woman  or  servant.  There  is  some- 
thing about  "Brer  Rabbit"  which  the  negro 
thinks  brings  good  luck. 

A  few  years  ago  I  had  a  patient  for  whose 
baby  I  desired  to  procure  a  wet  nurse.  I 
knew  a  young  colored  woman  whose  baby 
had  died  only  a  few  days  before.  In  order 
to  be  sure  of  getting  her  I  sent  for  the  old 
negro  woman  with  whom  she  was  staying  in 
order  to  procure  her  influence.  The  old 
woman  came  promptly  to  my  office. 

"Auntie,  I  wish  to  get  the  young  woman 
who  lost  her  baby  at  your  house  to  nurse  a 
white  baby.  Do  you  think  I  can  get  her?" 

"I  dunno,  sah,  wheddah  yo  kin  o'  not;  but 
it  won'  do  no  good,  ef  you  do.  She  ain't  got 
no  milk  no  mo'." 

"She  hasn't?"  I  asked;  "why, I  should  think 
she  ought  to  have.  She  is  young  and  healthy." 


SUPERSTITIONS,  TRADITIONS,  ETC.        143 

"Yes,  sah,  she  is,  an'  she  had  plenty  ob  it, 
but  it's  all  done  gone  and  dried  up  long  ago." 

"That's  strange,"  I  said,  "it  has  only  been 
a  few  days  since  her  baby  died." 

"Ain't  nuffin  strange  'bout  it  ef  ye  knowed 
how  it's  done.  I'se  found  out  somfin  dat'll 
dry  it  up  ebery  time,  an'  it'll  do  it  quick,  too." 

"Ah,  indeed.  Well,  I'd  like  to  learn  how 
you  do  it." 

"Why,  yo'  jest  put  some  camp  fire  (cam- 
phor) on  a  piece  ob  cotton,  an'  put  it  in  do 
coffin  wid  de  baby  an'  it  jest  keeps  a  drawin, 
an*  a  drawin'  till  it  draws  all  de  milk  away!" 

I  didn't  argue  the  point  with  her.  There 
is  no  use  in  doing  so  with  one  who  is  capable 
of  believing  a  thing  so  ridiculous.  The  only 
thing  to  do  to  rid  the  race  of  such  supersti- 
tions is  to  educate  their  children. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MIDWIVES 
AND  NURSES 

REASONS  WHY  THE  PROFESSION  DO  NOT  LIKE 
PREACHER  DOCTORS — THE  NURSE  AND  THE 
"NUSS" — STORIES  ABOUT  "NUSSES." 

There  is  an  abiding  prejudice  among  medi- 
cal men  against  preachers  practicing  medicine, 
and  against  mid  wives  and  certain  self-styled 


nurses.  This,  as  a  rule,  is  well  founded  and 
there  are  good  reasons  in  the  minds  of  those 
entertaining  such  prejudice — reasons  that  are 
born  of  experiences  in  their  lines  as  practi- 
tioners of  the  healing  art. 

It  is  a  fact  that,  in  the  western  country,  and 
in  the  more    sparsely   settled   districts,    espe- 


146    PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MIDWIVES,  ETC. 

dally,  there  are  many  men  following  both  the 
professions  of  medicine  and  the  ministry. 

They  either  started  out  in  life  as  preachers 
and  then  studied  medicine,  or  pretended  to, 
or  began  as  practitioners  of  medicine  and 
then  tacked  on  to  that  the  vocation  of  a  minister. 
The  prejudice  against  them  arises  mainly  from 
the  fact  that  every  well  informed  physician 
knows  that  no  man  can  follow  both  profes- 
sions and  do  justice  to  either.  He  will  be 
either  a  very  poor  preacher  or  a  very  poor 
physician,  or  both — probably  both.  Either  pro- 
fession, well  followed  and  well  filled,  is  suffi- 
cient to  tax  the  intellect  and  energy  of  the  best 
man  to  the  utmost. 

It  is  then  a  sort  of  presumption,  in  the  out- 
set, for  any  man  to  assume  to  fill  two  places 
which,  under  the  ordinary  rule,  only  one  man 
is  expected  to  fill.  He  arrogates  to  himself  a 
degree  of  ability  and  a  power  of  intellect  which 
we  know  that  no  one  man  possesses.  He,  there- 
fore, puts  himself  in  the  position  of  a  pre- 
tender, and  no  good  man  likes  or  approves  of 
a  pretender 

In  the  second  place  such  a  person  is  almost 
sure  to  attach  more  importance  to  a  little 
pra'yer,  added  to  his  medication,  than  he  does 
to  his  medication.  Whether  this  be  sincere  or 
pretense,  to  the  ordinary  physician  it  looks 
like  pretense.  It  savors  of  cant  to  such  an 
extent  that,  in  some  cases,  it  becomes  con- 
temptible. Then  again,  the  preacher  physician 
is  apt  to  get  a  hold  upon  the  members  of  his 
flock,  through  his  preaching  and  his  church 
associations,  by  which  he  obtains  their  practice, 
whether  his  abilities  as  a  physician,  entitle 


PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MIDWIVES,  ETC.     147 

him  to  it  or  not.  He  does  not  only  obtain  their 
practice,  but  their  influence  upon  those  who  are 
not  members  of  the  flock,  and  thereby  gets 
their  practice. 

This,  to  the  ordinary  physician,  looks  unfair. 
He  has  met  this  man  in  consultation,  perhaps, 
and  he  knows  that  he  is  shallow,  and  yet  this 
man  goes  to  the  country  church,  or  to  the  school 
house  on  Sunday,  and  preaches;  he  puts  on  a 
.sanctimonious  air,  and  talks  about  being  good; 
talks  about  dead  children  and  rakes  up  death 
scenes  which  touch  people's  hearts  and  make 
them  cry,  and  himself  joins  in  the  crying. 
They  say  he  is  "such  a  good  man!"  People 
naturally  like  a  man  who  can  make  them  cry 
— and  laugh.  It  is  singular,  but  it  is  true. 

I  do  not  wish  to  be  understood  as  includ- 
nig  here  men  who  have  quit  the  ministry  and 
become  physicians,  or  who  have  quit  the 
field  of  medicine  and  become  preachers.  That 
is  legitimate  and  proper.  I  only  speak  of 
those  who  attempt  to  do  both.  I  have  known 
several  of  the  latter,  and  must  say  that  I  have 
invariably  found  them  to  be  poor  preachers 
and  poorer  doctors. 

I  was  once  attending  a  wealthy  gentleman 
for  a  pneumonia  of  the  right  lung.  He  was  a 
bad  subject,  being  a  slight,  weakly  man,  and 
when  the  second  stage  ensued,  the  symptoms 
were  somewhat  alarming.  While  I  did  not 
despair  I  honestly  informed  the  family,  as  is 
my  habit,  that  his  condition  was  critical.  They 
at  once  desired  to  send  for  a  man  who  was 
once  their  family  physician  in  another  state, 
and,  who  was  now  a  preacher,  but  still  practiced 
some,  they  said,  "among  the  brethren." 


148    PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MIDWIVES,  ETC 

I  protested  and  desired  one  of  my  colleagues 
called.  But  nothing  would  satisfy  them  but 
to  have  this  man.  He  lived  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  away  and  was  telegraphed  for. 

He  came,  but,  fortunately  for  me,  the  crisis 
was  over  and  my  patient  was  better.  In  a 
very  short  conversation  with  him  I  ascertained 
that,  if  he  had  ever  known  anything  about 
medicine  he  had  forgotten  it.  The  first  thing 
he  did  upon  entering  the  sick  room,  after  greet- 
ing the  patient,  was  to  get  down  and  pray.  I 
didn't  protest  but  I  thought  it  out  of  place. 
He  then  proceeded  to  make  the  examination. 
.1  handed  him  my  Camann's  binaural  stetho- 
scope. He  put  it  to  his  ears  backward — in  a 
position  in  which,  every  competent  physician 
knows,  he  could  hear  nothing. 

After  a  very  patient  and  painstaking  exami- 
nation (he  had  come  one  hundred  and  fifty 
miles,  remember,  and  must  pretend  to  be 
doing  something)  he  turned  to  me  and  said, 
"pneumonia  of  the  left  lung!" 

"Of  the  right  lung,  doctor,"  I  quickly 
explained. 

"Yes — yes,"  said  he,  correcting  himself, 
"the  right  lung;  that  is  true — the  right  lung." 

I  could  afford  to  let  him  make  a  mistake 
with  the  manner  in  which  he  had  used  the 
stethoscope,  but  I  had  been  poulticing  that 
right  lung,  and  I  could  not  afford  to  let  him 
change  the  locality  of  the  disease. 

Now,  he  appeared  to  be  a  good  fellow,  but 
I  could  not  suppress  a  feeling  of  contempt  for 
him.  A  man  knows  when  he  does  not  know  a 
thing,  although  he  may  not  be  right  sure  when 
he  does  know  a  thing.  Otherwise  a  man  may 


PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MIDWIVES,  ETC.      149 

be  in  doubt  about  the  accuracy  of  his  knowl- 
edge, but  he  can  not  be  in  doubt  about  his 
absolute  lack  of  it. 

I  have  never  called  one  of  those  persons  in 
a  serious  case,  nor  been  called  with  them,  that 
an  extemporized  prayer  meeting  didn't  result. 
I  object  to  this.  I  object  on  account  of  the 
fact  that  it  does  many  sick  ones  more  harm 
than  good — the  weeping  and  wailing  of  rela- 
tives and  friends,  and  the  fact  that  the  patient, 
if  still  in  his  or  her  right  mind,  is  apt  to  be 
seriously  shaken  up.  The  death  bed  is  not  a 
good  place  for  reformation.  This  is  a  matter 
which  should  be  attended  to  when  we  are  not 
sick.  I  do  not  believe  that  people  ought  to 
be  scared  into  Heaven,  even  if  they  could  be. 

The  prejudice  against  midwives  is  based  on 
grounds  as  strong  as,  or  stronger,  than  that 
against  the  preacher  physicians.  The  princi- 
pal objection  against  them  is  on  account  of  their 
ignorance.  No  good  physician  will  object  to 
any  woman  going  to  the  assistance  of  another 
in  a  time  of  serious  trial,  when  a  physician  can 
not  be  had,  and  doing  all  that  she  can  in  such 
ways  and  to  such  an  extent  as  any  woman, 
making  no  pretensions  to  knowledge  may 
reasonably  go.  But  when  a  woman,  without 
possessing  any  more  knowledge  than  the  rest  of 
her  sex,  sets  herself  up  as  a  practitioner  in  this 
particular  line,  to  be  sent  for  even  in  opposi- 
tion to  a  physician,  then  the  latter  has  a  right  to 
object.  The  people  have  a  still  better  right  to 
do  so.  I  have  known  many  women  who  would 
not  go  except  when  a  physician  could  not  be 
had,  and  who,  upon  the  very  slightest  sus- 
picion that  all  was  not  right,  would  inform  the 


150    PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MID  WIVES,  ETC. 

family  and  friends  and  insist  on  a  physician 
being  called  at  all  hazards.  Such  women 
deserve  commendation  and  praise.  I  have 
known  others  on  the  other  hand  who  would 
set  up  their  limited  knowledge  against  that 
of  a  competent  physician,  and  who,  when 
called  to  a  serious  case,  demanding  instru- 
mental interference,  or  the  manipulation  of  a 
skilled  hand,  would  sit  and  wait  day  and  night, 
while  the  patient  became  exhausted  and  the 
foundations  for  septicemia  and  death  were  laid, 
and  who  would  object  to  the  calling  of  a  phy- 
sician, insisting  that  "all  will  be  right  in  a  few 
minutes."  I  have  even  known  them  to  resort 
to  the  most  horrible  methods  to  remedy  exist- 
ing difficulties.  Such  women  deserve  criminal 
prosecution.  Many  very  many  beautiful  lives 
have  been  sacrificed  by  the  willful  stubbornness, 
selfishness  and  greed  of  these  old  hags. 

The  first  one  of  these  self  appointed  doc- 
tors that  I  ever  met  was  in  my  early  practice. 
She  was  as  large  as  most  men  and  decidedly 
masculine  in  appearance.  She  had  a  big  nose, 
high  cheek  bones,  a  strong  under  jaw  and  firm 
set  mouth.  She  smoked  strong  tobacco  in  a 
cob  pipe  and  was  decidedly  fond  of  whisky. 
In  speaking  of  her  professional  work  I  asked, 
"what  books  have  you  read  on  obstetrics,  Mrs. 
G.?" 

"Well,  I  hain't  read  none,  because  I  cain't 
read,  but  I've  had  a  heap  read  to  me!" 

"I  suppose  that  you  have  done  a  good  deal 
of  practice  in  your  special  line,"  I  suggested. 

"Yes,  I  used  to  do  a  heap;  but  I  don't  do 
so  much  now.  But,  when  I  was  young  and 
strong  I  used  to  go  and  nuss  and  take  care  of 


PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MIDWIVES,  ETC.     151 

the  sick;  and  I'd  super  and  I'd  tend,  but  I 
cain't  do  it  no  more  like  I  could  then." 

The  old  lady  had  divided  the  word  superin- 
tend into  "super  and  tend,"  which  was  new 
to  me." 

This  woman  had  lived  in  the  county  twenty 
years,  and  she  was  so  wofully  ignorant  that  she 


"AN'  I'D  SUPER  AN'  I'D  TEND." 

invariably  called  the  name  of  the  county  seat 
wrong.  It  was  Nevada  and  she  called  it  Sevada! 
Yet  this  woman  had  the  assurance  and  effron- 
tery of  "Old  Nick,"  and  would  not  hesitate 
to  take  into  her  hands  the  issues  of  life  and 


152    PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MIDWIVES,  ETC. 

death,  in  cases  in  which  she  knew  no  more  than 
a  wild  hog  in  the  woods! 

This  woman  is  only  one  of  the  more  than  a 
score  whom  I  have  known  and  while  her 
ignorance,  about  things  in  general,  is  rather 
more  dense  than  the  average,  yet  she  knew  as 
much  about  the  special  work  to  which  she  had 
appointed  herself  as  the  rest.  The  truth  is 
none  of  them  know  anything  about  the  serious 
work  which  they  pretend  to  do.  If  all  is  right 
anybody  can  attend  to  it.  If  there  are  serious 
complications  they  are  as'  ignorant  of  their 
duties  as  the  unborn  child,  and  must  either 
stand  by,  and  see  the  poor  mother  wear  herself 
out  in  helpless,  hopeless  agony,  or  by  their 
ignorant  interference  do  things  which  are  almost 
as  bad  as  murder.  All  that  the  act  needs  to 
be  murder  is  the  intent. 

While  discussing  this  subject  a  few  years  ago 
with  a  friend,  eminent  in  the  profession  of. 
medicine,  he  remarked: 

"If  an  ignorant  woman  lives  to  be  fifty  or 
sixty  years  of  age  and  finds  herself  a  failure 
at  everything  else,  and  then  wants  to  be  a  doc- 
tor, if  she  does  not,  providentially,  die,  some 
one  ought  to  take  her  out  and  kill  her!" 

This  seems  to  be  a  harsh  sentence,  and  one 
that  the  speaker  himself,  in  his  broad  human- 
ity, could  not  see  carried  out;  and  yet,  in  strict 
truth,  there  would  be  a  great  saving  of  life  if 
these  women  were  penned  up  in  some  asylum, 
as  soon  as  they  began  to  manifest  symptoms 
of  wanting  to  "doctor"  people,  and  kept  there 
until  cured  of  their  monomania. 

Many  of  them  will  not  hesitate  to  come  in 
in  the  absence  of  the  physician  and  change 


PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MIDWIVES,  ETC.     153 

the  treatment  in  cases  of  childbed  fever,  or  in 
the  serious  ailments  of  small  children. 

They  always  end  what  they  have  to  say  in 
praise  of  a  certain  remedy,  or  a  certain  measure, 

"I  never  knowed  it  to  fail,  and  then,  what's 
more,  if  it  don't  do  no  good  it  won't  do  no  harm. " 

This  is  what  the  family  have  been  looking 
for — an  unfailing  remedy — one  which,  if  it 
does  no  good  will  do  no  harm. 

It  is  astounding  what  influence  those  women 
often  acquire  over  families,  and  more  especially 
over  young  mothers.  They  say  "she  is  an  old 
lady  an'  knows  more  about  babies  than  the 
doctors;  what  does  a  man  know  about  a  baby, 
or  about  a  woman  either?" 

The  habit  of  those  women  of  dosing  new- 
born babes  with  saffron  tea  (a  mean,  unwash- 
able  sort  of  vegetable  yellow  dye)  and  catnip 
(good  for  cats,  no  doubt)  and  giving  them  fat 
meat  and  "sugar  teats"  to  suck  deserves  the 
deepest  condemnation.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that 
many  weak-kneed  and  careless  physicians  per- 
mit these  atrocities  against  the  weak  and  help- 
less, new-born  thing.  I  never  do.  So  long  as 
midwife  or  nurse  obeys  my  orders  and  does  as 
I  direct,  she  is  my  friend,  and  will  meet  with 
nothing  but  gentleness  and  kindness  from  me; 
but,  whenever  she  invades  the  domain  of  what 
strictly  belongs  to  me,  and  "takes  the  bit  in 
her  teeth"  and  proposes  to  do  as  she  pleases, 
she  will  find  me  as  relentless  as  a  Comanche 
Indian.  Human  life  is  a  precious  thing, 
whether  it  be  the  life  of  the  babe,  the  belle  or 
the  octogenarian,  and  the  physician  who  per- 
mits the  life  which  has  been  placed  in  his 
special  care  and  keeping,  to  be  lightly  dealt 


154    PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MIDWIVES,  ETC. 

with  by  others,  has  not  learned  all  that  he 
ought  to  know. 

There  are  nurses  and  "misses."  A  good 
nurse  who  knows  her  duties  and  who  implicitly 
obeys  the  directions  of  the  physician  is  a  "pearl 
of  great  price."  The  self-appointed  "nuss" 
who  thinks  she  knows  more  than  the  doctor, 
who  tells  lies  about  the  number  of  years  she 
has  been  in  the  business,  and  who  secretly  gives 
compound  cathartic  pills  to  your  typhoid  pa- 
tients because  she  thinks  that  "the  only  thing 
that  ails  her  is  that  her  liver  ain't  actin',  an' 
the  doctor  hain't  give  her  a  single  thing  to  make 
it  act  and  clean  it  off,"  deserves  nothing  but 
a  decent  burial  at  Christian  hands  and  a  small 
attendance  at  the  obsequies. 

The  trained  nurses  that  are  now  coming  into 
use  in  the  larger  cities  are  a  great  help  to  the 
physician,  but  it  will  be  a  long  time,  I  fear, 
before  they  can  be  utilized  in  the  small  towns 
and  in  the  country.  On  the  other  hand  the 
miserable  old  gin  guzzlers  (who  kill  our  pa- 
tients with  their  doleful  stories  and  portentous 
prognostications)  with  whom  the  physician  in  the 
country  and  country  towns  has  been  compelled 
to  forbear,  in  order  that  he  may  not  be  numbered 
with  the  murderers,  will  still  hold  the  fort. 

There  are  many  good  nurses  in  families  who 
do  not  set  themselves  up  as  such,  and  I  would 
much  rather  have  one  of  these  nurse  a  sick 
patient  of  mine  than  to  have  many  who  set 
themselves  up  as  professionals.  The  worst 
feature  of  the  professional  who  has  had  no 
training  for  her  vocation  is  that  many  of  them 
take  up  the  business  in  order  to  keep  from 
taking  in  washing  or  going  out  to  service. 


PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MIDWIVES,  ETC.      155 

They  are  ignorant  and  have  no  natural  qual- 
ifications for  the  business,  and  besides,  when 
once  employed  they  forget  that  they  are  em- 
ployed as  nurses  only,  and  want  to  assume  the 
functions  of  a  doctor.  It  is  most  annoying  to 
the  physician  to  be  confronted  by  the  ignorant 
nurse  at  each  visit,  as  if  she  desired  a  consulta- 
tion. No  physician,  who  is  a  kindly  gentleman 
(and  all  physicians  ought  to  be  both  kind  and 
gentlemanly)  feels  like  thrusting  a  woman  aside 
with  a  rude  rebuff. 

"Well,  doctor,  what  do  you  think  of  her 
this  mornin'?" 

Now,  it  may  be  that  you  do  not  care  to  have 
her  know  just  what  you  think.  If  you  think 
the  patient  is  not  doing  well,  or  is  in  great 
danger,  and  tell  her  so,  she  may  go  and  repeat 
what  you  have  said  to  the  patient,  or,  if  not  to 
her,  to  the  family  and  neighbors  and  will  crowd 
the  house  with  interested  relatives  and  friends 
and  thereby  injure  the  sick  one. 

If  your  opinion  is  favorable  she  may  disagree 
with  you  and  argue  the  point  in  the  patient's 
presence  %after  you  have  gone. 

Another  bad  feature  about  some  of  the 
nurses  is  that  they  seem  to  be  afraid  that  they 
will  either  not  earn  their  salary,  or  that,  by  not 
being  busy  may  get  a  reputation  for  idleness,  and 
therefore  they  want  to  be  doing  something  all 
the  time.  The  one  needful  thing,  for  seriously 
sick  patients,  is  that  they  be  kept  quiet.  After  all 
is  done  that  should  be  done  then  let  them  alone. 

I  had  a  lady  patient  who  was  seriously  sick 
complain  to  me  once  that  she  thought  she  would 
do  \vell  enough  "if  the  nurse  didn't  pick  at  me 
all  the  time." 


156    PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MIDWIVES,  ETC. 

I  asked  her  what  she  meant  by  the  nurse 
"picking  at  her." 

She  requested  me  to  remain  awhile  and  see. 
As  the  nurse  was  not  present  during  this  con- 
versation I  consented  to  do  so. 

When  the  nurse  came  in  she  began  "picking 
at  her,"  and  this  is  about  the  way  in  which  she 
did  it: 

She  would  smooth  the  patient's  hair  with 
her  hands;  then  she  would  get  a  wet  rag  and 
apply  it  to  the  patient's  lips;  then  a  larger  rag 
and  wash  her  hands;  then,  after  the  lapse  of  a 
minute  or  two,  she  would  bathe  her  feet  with 
a  wet  rag,  and  then  dry  them  off  with  a  dry 
towel;  then  she  would  tuck  the  cover  around 
the  feet  and,  while  she  had  her  hand  in  in  the 
tucking  business,  she  would  go  up  to  the  head 
of  the  bed  and  tuck  the  sheet  around  the  pa- 
tient's shoulders.  After  carefully  surveying  the 
patient  for  a  minute  or  so  she  would  ask  her 
if  she  didn't  want  a  drink  of  water.  If  the 
patient  didn't  then  she  would  begin  on  the 
hair  again  or  something  else  just  as  annoying. 

I  invited  her  to  the  parlor  before  I  went 
away  and  gave  her  a  lecture  and  concluded 
by  asking  her  "in  the  name  of  heaven  and  all 
the  angels"  to  let  the  woman  rest.  I  frankly 
told  her  that,  well  as  I  was  then,  if  I  were  to 
lie  down  on  the  bed  and  permit  her  to  worry 
me  one  day  as  she  worried  that  poor,  sick 
woman  it  would  make  me  sick. 

"Well,  but  what  must  I  do;  it  looks  like  I 
ought  to  be  doin'  somethin'." 

"Do  nothing  except  what  common  sense 
dictates;  give  the  medicines  according  to  direc- 
tions, bathe  when  and  as  I  tell  you;  above  all 


PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MIDWIVES,  ETC.      157 

get  the  patient  quiet  and  keep  her  quiet.  Do 
not  disturb  her  unnecessarily  and  do  not  per- 
mit others  to  do  so." 

The  lecture  was  salutary  and  bore  good 
results.  The  nurse  was  not  altogether  bad. 
She  was  new  at  the  business  and  desired  to 
earn  her  wages  and  establish  herself  in  the 
opinion  of  the  community  as  being  a  person 
who  was  not  idle,  and  therefore  thought  she 
"must  be  doin'  somethin',"  in  order  to  ingrati- 
ate herself  into  public  favor. 

In  a  somewhat  tedious  and  prolonged  case 
of  parturition  I  once  had  one  of  those  old  gin- 
drinking  smokers  who  was  ignorant,  self  asser- 
tive, and  full  of  remedies  and  suggestions.  I 
knew  my  case  and  was  patiently  waiting  for 
the  time  when  I  could  safely  interfere  with  in- 
struments and  end  matters  with  satisfaction 
to  myself  and  perfect  safety  to  the  patient. 
This  old  self-conceited  creature  had  retired 
and  consulted  the  gin  or  whisky  bottle  and  her 
pipe  for  about  the  tenth  time,  each  time  coming 
back  with  a  suggestion  as  to  what  might  be 
done  to  bring  matters  to  a  sudden  termination. 

Each  time  I  had  kindly  and  firmly  blown 
her  suggestions  to  the  winds  and  waved  her 
away  by  saying,  "But  that  will  not  do  in  this 
case." 

She  finally  came  in  with  the  suggestion  that 
I  give  the  patient  a  tablespoonful  of  gunpowder. 
She  had  been  in  a  similar  condition  once — 
"was  worked  jest  like  she  is,  an'  I  tuck  a  table- 
spoonful  o'  gunpowder  an'  it  was  all  over  in 
ten  minits." 

I  looked  at  her  with  a  quizzical  expression 
and  spoke  in  the  hesitating  manner  of  Mark 


158     PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MIDWIVES,  ETC. 

Twain  and  The  Doctor,  when  tormenting  the 
guide  about  the  bust  and  hand  writing  of 
Christopher  Columbus,  and  said: 

"Well,  Mrs.  J.,  but  how  can  we  touch  the 
powder  off?" 

Her  face  was  almost  ablaze  with  astonish- 
ment. 


"WELL,  MRS.  J.,  BUT  HOW  CAN  WE  TOUCH  THE 
POWDER  OFF." 

"Why,  you  don't  have  to  touch  it  off!  You 
jest  give  it  to  her  like  any  other  medicine  an' 
let  it  work  that  way." 

I  answered  that  gunpowder  was  made  of 
saltpetre,  sulphur  and  charcoal,  and  when  com- 
bined was  not  good  for  anything  on  earth  ex- 
cept as  an  explosive;  and,  unless  she  could 
devise  some  way  by  which  we  could  set  fire  to 
it,  I  couldn't  see  what  good  it  was  going  to  do. 
The  old  lady  seemed  utterly  astounded  at  my 
ignorance  and,  no  doubt,  considered  me  to  be 
almost  criminally  so. 


PREACHER  DOCTORS,  MIDWIVES,  ETC.      159 

I  was  once  called  in  a  case  where  there  was 
a  young  baby  and  the  young  mother  was  suffer- 
ing from  septic  peritonitis — childbed  fever.  I 
had  not  been  the  attending  physician  before, 
but  learned  that  the  nurse  in  the  case  was  an 
old  maid  friend  of  the  patient.  She  desired 
to  quit  the  occupation  of  seamstress,  which  she 
had  followed  before,  and  become  a  nurse,  and 
this  young  married  friend  in  her  kindness  and 
friendship  had  decided  to  "let  her  begin  on 
her,"  as  she  expressed  it. 

The  young  mother  was  so  sick  that  I  gave 
little  attention  to  the  baby,  and  as  the  "nuss" 
seemed  rather  shy  and  kept  out  of  my  way — 
leaving  the  care  of  the  patient  to  her  mother — 
I  saw  but  little  of  her  and  paid  little  attention 
to  her.  They  told  me  that  she  was  taking  care 
of  the  baby. 

After  the  lapse  of  several  days  I  was  told 
that  there  was  something  the  matter  with  the 
baby  and  they  desired  me  to  see  it. 

On  questioning  the  "nuss"  I  brought  out 
the  astounding  fact  that  she  had  been  feeding 
it  on  milk  and — crackers.  When  informed  that 
a  child  of  that  age  could  not  digest  crackers 
she  was  so  disgusted  with  herself  that  she  went 
back  to  her  dressmaking  and  the  world  lost  an 
honest  "nuss." 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN 

HIS  GENERAL  CHARACTER  AND  HABITS — HIS 
DOG,  TEAM  AND  WIFE — STORIES  OF  KEE- 
SECKER  AND  OLD  DARLING. 


1 


HE  Branch  -  Water 
Man  is  a  peculiar 
product  of  the  fron- 
tier and  the  West. 
While  you  will  find 
others  much  like  him 
in  the  loungers,  the 
dead  beats  and  the 
shiftless  in  our  larger 
cities,  yet  the  oppor- 
tunity to  become  the 
man  that  he  becomes 
and  to  live  the  life  that  he  lives,  is  not  offered 
to  any  but  him. 

The  Branch-Water  Man  is,  usually,  de- 
scended from  a  long  line  of  Branch- Water  an- 
cestry, fie  inherits  nothing  but  flabby  muscles, 
a  flabby  intellect  and  constitution  and  a  dis- 
position to  roam  all  the  days  of  his  life ;  for  this 
man  has  no  place  that  he  can  »call  his  home. 
He  does  not  want  it,  and  he  would  not  keep  it 
if  he  had  it.  He  does  not  want  a  home,  for  if 
he  had  one  which  he  could  not  sell,  it  would 
prevent  him  from  moving. 

He  is  the  American  gypsy  without  the  ability 
to  barter  and  trade  and  care  for  one's  self  that 
other  gpysies  possess. 


162  THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN 

He  generally  lives  at  the  back  of  another 
man's  farm  and  drinks  branch  water  in  prefer- 
ence to  digging  a  well — because  to  dig  the  well 
would  cost  him  some  exertion  and,  if  there  is 
one  thing  which  this  man  dislikes  above  all 
others  it  is  exertion.  He  is  the  only  living 
example  of  the  law  of  inertia — that  is  one  part 
of  it;  that  part  which  teaches  that,  when  a 
body  is  at  rest  it  can  not  move  until  put  in 
motion.  The  Branch- Water  Man  is  happiest 
when  not  exerting  himself. 

You  can  tell  this  man  from  other  bipeds 
by  his  dog,  his  wagon,  and  his  team,  and  his 
dress.  I  know  a  Branch- Water  Man's  dog, 
even  when  his  master  is  not  with  him.  He  is 
not  like  any  other  dog.  A  blooded  dog — the 
pointer,  the  setter,  the  spaniel  and  others  of 
the  more  intelligent  and  useful  of  the  canine 
species,  will  not  remain  with  this  man  any 
longer  {han  it  takes  them  to  get  away.  In- 
telligent and  fine  dogs  like  intelligent  and  fine 
masters.  So,  if  you  ever  see  a  dog  of  the  better 
kind  with  the  Branch- Water  Man  you  may 
know  that  that  dog  has  either  done  something 
mean  and  fallen  from  grace,  or  some  great 
calamity  has  befallen  him.  Something  has 
occurred  to  this  dog  which  has  compelled  him 
to  accept  a  position  which  he  knows  is  a  disgrace 
to  him  every  day  that  he  lives  and  he  feels  it 
and  is  ashamed  of  it  in  his  very  bones. 

This  man's  dog  is  a  mongrel.  He  is  a  mix- 
ture of  nearly  all  the  dogs  of  the  meaner  kind. 
He  is  generally  a  yellow  dog,  and  has  a  long 
body,  short  legs  and  a  bushy  tail.  As  said 
before  he  is  a  mixture  of  many  breeds  of  dogs ; 
but,  he  is  most  all  Branch- Water  Man's  dog. 


THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN  163 

When  you  see  that  kind  of  a  dog  on  the 
streets  of  a  country  town  you  can  find  his  mas- 
ter by  going  around  to  the  wood  yard  and  pick- 
ing out  the  man  with  the  smallest,  trashiest  and 
meanest  load  of  stove  wood  in  the  lot. 

You  will  here  not  only  have  the  opportunity 
to  inspect  the  man  himself,  but  you  will  also 
get  a  chance  to  see  his  wagon  and  his  team. 
His  team  is  small,  old  and  boney — perhaps  a 
big  horse  and  a  small  mule,  or  a  small  horse 
and  a  large  mule  with  a  crooked  knee.  One 
or  the  other  is  almost  sure  to  be  half  or  altogether 
blind. 

This  man  gets  this  kind  of  a  team  because  it 
comes  cheap,  for  he  can  not  own  a  team  unless 
he  can  get  it  for  almost  nothing.  They  are  the 
cast  off  and  used  up  stock  that  other  and  more 
thrifty  people  do  not  want  and  will  not  have. 

His  team  is  poor  and  look  like  hair  covered, 
animated  hat  racks,  and  they  have  to  lean 
against  each  other  to  think.  When  the  Branch- 
Water  Man  wants  to  move  he  has  to  wake 
them  up,  for  these  poor,  miserable  and  solemn 
stacks  of  bones  stand  and  sleep  in  the  sun  and 
rarely  move  except  to  occasionally  threaten  a 
tormenting*  fly;  but  they  rarely  do  more  than 
threaten.  It  would  take  an  expenditure  of 
force  and  a  wear  and  tear  of  tissue  to  knock 
the  fly  off  which  the  horse  can  ill  afford. 

This  man  never  thinks  of  moving  into  any 
other  kind  of  a  house  than  an  old  outhouse  on 
some  one's  farm — a  house  where  the  door  and 
floor  and  a  part  of  the  chimney  are  gone. 
This  one-gallused  Arab  will  move  into  a  house 
like  this  and  do  a  little  work  around  the  neigh- 
borhood occasionally  and  will  take  his  pay  in 


164  THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN 

hog's  jowls  and  corn  meal  and  be  just  as  happy 
as  a  prince.  He  sometimes  puts  in  a  crop  on 
the  farm  of  some  one  else  and  half  way  'tends 
it  until  the  crop  is  partly  raised  and  he  will 
then  sell  it  for  what  he  can  get,  and,  suddenly 
hears  of  some  "good  place  to  move  to"  and 
gets  up  and  moves. 

He  can  move  on  a  fifteen  minutes'  notice. 
All  he  has  to  do  is  to  hitch  the  old  scarecrow 
team  to  an  old  rattle  trap  wagon,  put  the  old 
woman  and  children  and  a  few  other  rags  into 
the  wagon,  pour  a  bucket  of  water  on  the  fire, 
and  call  the  dogs  and  be  off. 

He  is  happy  now.  He  will  drag  along  all 
day  and  go  into  camp  near  a  small  stream  at 
night,  where  his  wife  will  bake  some  corn  pone, 
fry  some  fat  bacon  and  make  a  horrible  decoc- 
tion which  they  think  is  coffee.  He  will  turn 
the  team  out  to  graze  and  he  and  his  family 
will  sit  around  a  smoky  log  fire  and  fill  up  on 
this  stuff  and  speculate  about  the  good  things 
they  are  going  to  have  when  they  get  to  their 
destination,  and  get  as  much  enjoyment  out  of 
it  as  other  people  have  in  other  ways. 

The  Branch- Water  Man  is  a  hopeful  creature. 
He  is  always  looking  forward  to  something  which 
he  never  reaches;  he  is  always  expecting  some- 
thing to  happen  which  never  happens,  and  he 
is  too  lazy,  ignorant  and  shiftless  to  make  any- 
thing happen. 

He  just  waits  and  hopes.  I  never  knew 
one  of  those  fellows  to  raise  a  crop  of  anything 
and  save  enough  of  it  to  have  seed  for  another 
crop.  They  always  beg  or  buy  seed  in  the 
spring.  If  he  cannot  sell  the  crop  before  it 
matures,  and  nature  is  so  bountiful  and  the 


THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN 


165 


season  so  good  that  he  raises  more  than  he 
can  use,  he  will  either  let  it  go  to  waste,  or  he 
will  keep  his  fences  so  poorly  that  the  neigh- 
bor's stock  will  get  in  and  eat  it  up. 

The  next  spring  or  the  next  autumn  is  too 
far  away  for  this  man  to  consider  anything  in 
relation  to  that  time.  What  he  wants,  he  wants 


WAITING  TO  "GIT  IN  TO  HAUL." 

right  now;  what  does  he  care  for  next  week  or 
next  month  or  next  year?  His  mind  can  not 
grasp  things  so  far  away  in  the  dim,  uncertain 
future. 

These  people  will  often  flock  to  the  small 
towns  in  the  West  with  a  view  to  "gittin'  in  to 
haul"  and  will  live  in  the  little  shanties  in  the 
suburbs  or  along  the  railroad  tracks  and  will 


166  THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN 

haul  lumber,  dirt,  rock,  sand,  wood  and  such 
things  when  they  can  get  this  kind  of  work  to 
do.  But  they  will  not  work,  until  pushed  to 
the  last  extremity,  unless  they  can  use  the  pious 
and  solemn  old  crow-bait  team  also. 

They  will  sit  around  on  dry  goods  boxes 
on  the  corners  and  in  front  of  the  stores,  in  their 
shirt  sleeves  and  old  flop  brim  hats  and  with 
green  baize  patches  on  the  rear  of  their  pants, 
and  seriously  discuss  matters  of  great  national 
concern  about  which  they  know  no  more  than 
the  old  horses  that  they  drive,  and  they  will 
almost  run  from  a  man,  if  they  think  he  wants 
to  hire  them  to  work  and  does  not  want  to  hire 
the  insane  old  team  also. 

The  Branch- Water  Man  will  follow  a  hand- 
organ  with  a  monkey  attachment  all  day.  He 
is  always  at  a  dog  fight.  He  does  not  go  to 
the  dog  fight,  but  just  seems  to  turn  up  where 
one  is  going  on;  and  he  will  stand  for  hours 
and  listen  to  the  jokes  of  the  patent  nostrum 
vender  and  will  guffaw  inordinately  at  his  silly 
talk.  He  never  misses  a  circus.  A  circus  is,  per- 
haps, the  only  thing  that  ever  tempts  this  man  to 
think  of  parting  with  his  team  and  rickety  old 
wagon.  He  will  resort  to  all  sorts  of  shifts  to 
get  hold  of  a  little  money  in  order  to  take  the 
"ole  'oman  an'  the  brats"  to  the  show. 

I  knew  one  of  those  fellows  who  actually 
came  to  town  on  circus  day  and  brought  his 
wife  and  children,  and  brought  in  and  sold 
their  old  cooking  stove  to  a  second  hand  dealer 
for  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents  in  order  to  get 
money  with  which  to  attend  the  circus. 

I  knew  another  case  where  another  just 
such  a  man  came  seventy  miles  in  the  same 


THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN  167 

kind  of  an  old  wagon  and  the  typical  Branch- 
Water  Man's  team,  and  brought  his  wife  and 
two  children  (they  had  only  two;  these  kind 
of  people  usually  have  eleven)  and  hauled  a 
young  calf  (the  only  one  he  had)  in  the  back 
end  of  the  wagon,  in  order  to  attend  "Bar- 
num's  Greatest  Show  on  Earth." 

The  calf  was  to  be  sold  in  order  to  get  money 
with  which  to  buy  tickets. 

He  had  calculated  on  getting  four  dollars 
for  the  calf,  but  the  first  butcher  offered  him 
six  dollars  for  it.  It  astonished  him  so  that  he 
could  scarcely  get  his  breath. 

After  making  the  sale  he  went  down  to  a 
jewelry  store  and  made  a  statement  of  his 
good  fortune  to  the  jeweller,  and  added  that, 
as  he  had  more  money  than  he  thought  he 
would  have  he  had  concluded  to  buy  some- 
thing for  the  children.  The  jeweller  asked: 

"Well,  little  man,  what  do  you  want?" 

The  boy  wiped  his  nose  on  his  sleeve,  looked 
around  a  little,  and  answered: 

"I  want  one  o'  them  French  harps." 

The  price  was  forty  cents  and  the  boy  and 
girl  each  got  one.  Both  of  them  were  barefoot. 

No  doubt,  this  happy  man  even  yet  dates 
everything  Jaack  to  the  time  "when  we  went 
to  the  circus."  It  was  the  one  great  event  in 
the  ordinarily  uneventful  life  of  this  poor  fellow. 

The  Branch- Water  Man's  wife  is  much  like 
him.  She  is  a  piece  off  the  same  stuff.  She  is 
prematurely  old,  is  slab-sided,  tanned  and 
wrinkled,  wears  an  old  cotton  handkerchief  of 
bright  colors  around  her  head  and  tied  under 
her  chin,  and,  almost  invariably  smokes  a  cob 
pipe  with  a  short  stem. 


168  THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN 

She  will  light  this  strong  old  pipe  and  sit 
down  with  her  knees  somewhat  apart  and  will 
rest  an  elbow  on  each  knee,  put  one  hand  under 
her  chin  and  hold  the  old  pipe  with  the  other, 
and,  in  this  leaning  attitude,  will  sit  and  smoke 
and  gaze  intently  on  one  spot  in  front  of  her  in 
a  sort  of  day  dream  and  will  scarcely  move  or 
speak  for  an  hour  unless  spoken  to. 

I  have  often  wondered  what  she  thinks 
about  while  she  is  being  soothed  by  the  strong 
tobacco.  She  dreams,  no  doubt,  somewhat 
like  other  and  more  favored  people.  She 
dreams  of  moving  into  some  goodly  land  where 
her  husband  can  "git  in  to  haul"  without 
trouble;  where  the  days  are  clear  and  the  run- 
ning streams  are  full  of  fish  that  bite  readily; 
where  bacon  and  corn  are  cheap  and  the  pa- 
paws  and  the  black  haws  ripen  early,  and 
where  strong,  dog  leg  tobacco  may  be  had  for 
the  asking. 

This  is  the  kind  of  country  that  the  Branch- 
Water  Man  longs  for,  and  it  is,  no  doubt,  the 
place  of  which  his  wife  dreams,  where  her 
toothache  is  soothed  and  her  digestion  is  im- 
proved by  the  stimulus  of  the  old  cob  pipe  and 
the  strong  tobacco. 

The  poets  are  not  the  only  dreamers,  for  the 
Branch- Water  Man's  wife  dreams  and,  I  do  verily 
believe  that  his  old  horse  dreams  sometimes. 

What  does  he  dream  of? 

Of  a  goodly  land,  where  the  weather  and  the 
roads  are  good,  where  the  loads  are  light  and 
the  green  grass  is  plentiful;  for,  even  the 
Branch- Water  Man's  horse  gets  tired  of  eating 
fence  rails,  stumps,  sprouts,  the  wagon  bed 
and  the  neighbor's  front  gate. 


THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN  169 

Reader,  did  you  ever  notice  that  a  man's 
horse  and  his  dog  are  much  like  the  man? 

A  spirited  man  will  own  a  spirited  team  and 
when  they  are  brought  out  and  hitched  up  it 
takes  a  strong,  spirited  man  to  hold  them  in 
check  and  keep  them  from  running  away.  But 
the  Branch-Water  Man's  team  never  runs  away. 
They  are  too  solemn  and  religious  to  ever  think 
of  such  a  thing. 

When  I  was  a  boy  I  knew  a  man  of  this 
type  who  owned  a  serious  and  grave-looking 
old  horse,  and,  one  hard  winter,  after  a  bad  crop 
year,  the  Branch- Water  Man  was  not  able  to 
procure  food  for  both  the  family  and  the  old 
horse;  so  he  would  go  out  and  cut  down 
slippery  elm  saplings  and  the  old  horse  would 
eat  the  tops  and  small  limbs  and  gnaw  the  bark 
off  the  body  and  large  limbs,  and,  in  this  way, 
managed  to  get  through  the  winter.  But  he 
was  very  poor  and  bony  when  the  spring  came. 
He  would  stand  and  sleep  and  dream,  with  that 
grave,  religious  look  on  his  countenance,  and 
occasionally  he  would  put  one  ear  forward  and 
his  face  would  suddenly  light  up  with  a  sort  of 
ecstatic  smile,  as  if  he  had  just  discovered  an 
oasis  of  green  grass.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
about  wha£  that  poor  old  horse  dreamed.  Then 
the  red  birds  came.  When  the  red  bird  comes 
in  the  early  spring  he  will  sit  on  a  limb  for 
hours  and  whistle  the  peculiar  notes  that  a 
farmer  whistles  when  he  is  calling  his  horses 
to  their  feed.  When  the  old  horse  would  hear 
this  whistle  he  would  wake  up  suddenly,  a 
heavenly  gleam  would  overspread  his  counte- 
nance and  he  would  hoist  his  head  and  his 
old  "chawed  off"  tail  and  would  go  careering 


170  THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN 

and  whickering  through  the  woods  like  he  was 
crazy.  About  the  time  he  would  get  well  under 
way  another  bird  would  whistle  in  some  other 
direction  and  he  would  stop  and  listen;  and, 
on  hearing  it  again,  he  would  turn  and  charge 
in  that  direction.  He  was  so  weak  and  emaci- 
ated by  his  slippery  elm  diet  that  he  would  run 
against  trees  and  fall  over  logs,  and  the  man 
had  to  tie  him  up  to  keep  him  from  breaking 
his  neck. 

The  Branch- Water  Man's  wagon  is  in  keeping 
with  his  team  and  with  all  his  other  personal 
property.  It  is  old,  gnawed,  rickety  and  shabby, 
has  no  paint  on  it  and  he  rarely  ever  greases 
it;  so  that,  when  he  is  on  one  of  his  semi- 
annual tours  you  can  hear  the  old  wagon  howl- 
ing for  grease  further  than  you  can  see  it. 
This  wagon  looks  as  if  it  would  catch  chickens 
if  you  would  turn  it  loose  in  a  horse  lot.  You 
can  always  tell  where  one  of  these  wagons  has 
gone  along  the  road  by  the  track  in  the  dust. 
Either  one  or  both  hind  wheels  wabble  and 
continually  crosses  back  and  forth  over  the 
track  of  the  front  wheel,  making  a  sort  of  plaited 
track. 

The  Branch- Water  Man  don't  care  as  a  rule 
where  he  goes  when  he  moves,  except  that  he 
almost  invariably  heads  for  the  south  in  the 
autumn  and  for  the  north  in  the  spring.  The 
extremes  of  heat  and  cold  oppress  him  and  he 
uses  all  of  his  surplus  nervous  energy  in  trying 
to  live  where  the  extremes  never  come. 

This  man  is  the  bete  noir  of  the  doctor's  life. 
His  family  is  often  sick  and  he  never  pays. 
He  scarcely  ever  goes  after  the  doctor  in  good 
weather  and  rarely  ever  in  the  day  time;  and, 


THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN  171 

one  peculiarity  about  his  calls  is  he  is  always 
in  a  hurry — wants  you  "jest  as  quick  as  you  can 
git  thar" — and  he  never  knows  what  the  symp- 
toms are. 

This  is  a  shrewd  way  he  has  to  keep  from 
being  sent  away  with  a  prescription.  Press 
him  all  you  may  he  will  insist  that  he  does  not 
know  of  what  his  wife  is  complaining;  and  he 
will  invent  the  most  ingenious  lies  to  get  out  of 
telling  you  the  symptoms.  He  "jest  cum  in 
from  work  and  found  her  almost  dead,"  and 
he  started  right  off  for  you  and  he  wants  you 
to  come  "right  away;  fur,  if  ye  don't,  Doc., 
I'm  afeard  she'll  die." 

When  I  was  young,  innocent  and  tender- 
hearted these  fellows  used  to  really  alarm  me. 
Laboring  under  the  fear  that  I  might  let  some 
poor  mortal  die  by  neglecting  her  I  have  trudged 
through  the  mud  on  a  dark  night  for  nearly 
a  mile,  and  when  I  arrived  at  the  shanty,  found 
the  woman  sitting  up  in  bed  with  a  hot  stove 
lid  or  plate  to  her  epigastrium — the  case  being 
a  plain,  old-fashioned  cramp  colic  from  eating 
too  much  cabbage,  and  the  scoundrel  knew 
where  the  pain  was,  for  he  placed  the  hot  stove 
lid  to  her  stomach  before  he  started  after  me. 

When  upbraided  on  account  of  his  decep- 
tion he  wo\ild  get  out  of  it  by  saying: 

"Well,  Doc.,  I  was  so  scared  that  I  didn't 
sca'cely  know  what  the  matter  wuz;  an'  I  was 
afeard  ef  ye  didn't  come  she'd  die." 

This  man  always  tells  you  that  he  has 
"heard  that  you  are  the  best  doctor  in  town 
an'  wants  you  and  nobody  else."  He  informs 
you  that  he  always  pays  his  doctor's  bills 
and  will  pay  you  as  soon  as  he  gets  through 


172  THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN 

hauling  sand.  But  he  will  not  do  it.  You 
couldn't  squeeze  a  dollar  out  of  him  if  you 
put  him  in  a  hay  press. 

After  I  had  been  practicing  three  or  four 
years  I  received  an  urgent  call  one  Sunday 
morning  to  go  about  ten  miles  from  the  little 
town  where  I  then  lived  to  see  a  man  who  was 
reported  to  be  very  sick.  Could  he  pay  me 
for  my  visit? 

"Oh,  yes,"  the  messenger  answered;  "he 
is  perfectly  good — always  pays  his  bills." 

He  lived  in  the  hilliest  and  poorest  part  of 
the  county,  in  a  neighborhood  which  had  re- 
ceived the  name  of  the  "greasy  nation,"  for 
the  reason  that  it  was  inhabited  principally 
by  Branch- Water  people. 

As  I  had  but  little  to  do  and  the  weather 
was  pleasant  I  decided  to  go.  I  took  with  me 
a  young  doctor  who  had  just  graduated,  but 
had,  as  yet,  done  no  practice. 

I  learned  that  this  man  was  a  son-in-law  of 
an  old  fellow  named  Phillip  Jackson.  Jackson 
was  noted  in  that  part  of  the  country  as  an 
inveterate  stammerer.  He  was  one  of  those 
stammerers  who  halts  on  a  word  and  chews  his 
ear  for  a  minute  or  two  before  he  can  "get 
her  off  the  center."  It  was  reported  of  him 
that  he  went  into  a  drug  store  once  after  a 
bottle  of  turpentine,  and  the  drug  clerk  put  up 
two  prescriptions  for  another  man  before  old 
Jackson  could  say  "turpentine." 

Before  arriving  at  the  place  wre  passed  two 
or  three  small  fields  with  poor  fences  around 
them  and  then  came  to  a  log  house,  built  of 
very  crooked,  unhewn  logs  and  daubed  with 
mud.  The  place  was  surrounded  by  a  low, 


THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN  173 

straggling  fence,  and  the  wood  pile  was  in  front 
of  the  house.  We  encountered  a  half-dozen 
Branch- Water  men,  who  were  sitting  on  the 
wood  pile  and  whittling  and  chewing  bad 
tobacco,  as  we  went  in.  Just  before  we  got 
to  the  door  five  or  six  girls — ranging  from  four- 
teen to  seventeen  years  of  age — ran  out  at  the 
only  door  with  their  hands  over  their  mouths 
and  went  giggling  and  snickering  around  the 
house. 

Inside  were  a  half-dozen  or  more  women, 
all  wearing  dresses  too  short,  in  front  and  too 
long  behind,  and  each  holding  a  baby. 

The  sick  man's  name  was  Keesecker  and 
he  was  badly  "salivated."  That  is,  he  had 
taken  calomel  and  was  suffering  from  the  con- 
stitutional effects  of  that  drug.  His  mouth  was 
very  sore — so  sore,  in  fact,  that,  when  talking 
he  did  not  move  either  jaw,  tongue  or  lips. 
He  talked  entirely  with  his  throat. 

Now,  reader,  open  your  mouth  until  your 
front  teeth  are  a  half  inch  apart,  place  the 
tip  of  your  tongue  against  your  lower  teeth 
and,  thus  holding  your  jaw,  tongue  and  lips 
perfectly  immovable,  do  Keesecker's  part  of 
this  conversation: — 

"How  do  you  do,  sir?"  I  began. 

"How  clo  you  do,  sir?"  he  answered. 

It  sounded  as  if  he  had  said,  "'ow  uh  'ou 
uh,  her?" 

"How  long  have  you  been  sick?" 

"About  two  weeks."     ("a'out  oo  eeks.") 

"How  was  you  first  taken?" 

"Well,  I  first  got  bilious,  and  I  took  some 
calomel  and  it  salivated  me;  and  then  I  got 
this  pain  in  my  side." 


174  THE  BRANCH. WATER  MAN 

His  salivation  was  of  the  "wet"  variety  and 
he  was  drooling  a  great  deal;  and,  at  this 
juncture,  he  turned  over  and  spat  on  my  foot. 
His  wife  got  a  dirty  rag  and  made  it  worse  by 
trying  to  wipe  it  off.  I  looked  at  my  young 
friend,  and  he  was  swelled  up  and  almost  ready 
to  roar  with  laughter. 

"Anything  else,"  I  asked. 

"Well,  I  got  a  little  better  once  and  went 
up  to  Nevada;  an',  as  I  came  home  I  got 
awful  hungry;  an'  I  stopped  at  a  house  an' 
asked  for  somethin'  to  eat,  an'  a  lady  gave  me 
a  piece  of  bread,  an'  I  think  it  h-e-1-p-e-d  me." 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Keesecker,"  said  he. 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  said  I. 

"Let  me  spell  it  for  you.  K-double  e, 
Kee,  s-e-c-k,  Keeseck,  e-r,  er,  Keesecker," 
said  he,  pronouncing  it,  in  his  mouth-bound 
condition,  like  "Heehecker." 

I  looked  at  my  young  friend,  and,  from  his 
appearance,  felt  satisfied  that  his  safety  valve 
would  not  last  much  longer.  An  explosion  was 
inevitable. 

Just  then  Keesecker  raised  up  and  spat  on 
my  other  foot.  His  wife  got  the  same  rag 
and  spoiled  the  shine  on  that  shoe,  also,  by 
trying  to  wipe  it  off. 

After  examining  and  prescribing  for  the 
patient  I  arose  to  go;  and,  as  I  did  so  I  en- 
countered all  the  women  in  the  house,  standing 
in  a  semi-circle,  with  their  babies  astraddle  of 
their  hips  and  each  desiring  me  to  took  at  her 
baby  for  some  fancied  or  real  ailment. 

May  be  the  reader  does  not  know  what  a 
"straddling"  baby  means.  These  mothers, 


THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN  175 

not  being  able  to  procure  baby  carriages,  all 
teach  their  children  to  "straddle,"  as  they  can 
carry  them  much  easier  in  that  way.  They 
take  the  baby  astride  of  the  waist  above  the 
hip,  when  it  is  quite  young,  and  teach  it,  by 
their  manner  of  holding  it,  to  cling  to  the 
mother's  waist  with  its  little  legs. 

They  will  go  to  town  to  the  circus  and  walk 
all  day  with  the  child  in  this  position.  Some- 
times a  child  will  get  refractory  in  the  presence 
of  strange  people  and  under  the  excitement  of 
the  crowd,  and  will  refuse  to  straddle.  I  once 
heard  one  of  these  women  speak  of  this  per- 
verse action  in  her  child.  She  was  talking  to 
another  woman. 

"Miss  Williams,"  (these  women  almost  in- 
variably say  "Miss"  for  "Mistress"  or  "Misses") 
"Miss  Williams,  does  your  baby  straddle?" 

"Straddle!"  answered  Mrs.  Williams,  "well, 
I  reckon  he  does.  He's  been  straddlin'  real 
good  for  more'n  three  months." 

"Well,"  continued  the  other,  "my  Johnny's 
been  straddlin'  for  longer'n  that;  but,  I  tuck 
him  to  the  show  the  other  day,  an'  he  jest 
wouldn't  straddle  nary  bit;  an'  I  tried  every 
way  I  could  to  make  him,  but  he  jest  wouldn't. 
I  threatened  to  spank  'im,  an'  I  did  shake  'im 
right  hard  once,  but  whenever  I'd  put  him  on 
an'  try  to  make  'im  straddle  he'd  cry  an'  git 
jest  as  limber  as  a  rag  an'  act  jest  like  he  was 
possessed.  Oh,  ef  I  hadn't  been  in  that  big 
crowd  I'd  a  spanked  him  'till  he  was  sore," 
and  so  on. 

As  I  said,  these  women  were  in  a  semi- 
circle, each  with  her  baby  astraddle,  and  each 
with  her  hip  elevated  giving  her  the  appearance 


176 


THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN 


of  having  a  lateral  curvature  of  the  spine,  and 
each  wanting  her  baby  looked  at  and  prescribed 
for.  I  went  along  the  line.  One  had  an  eczema 
on  the  face,  another  sore  eyes,  another  an 
eruption  on  the  scalp.  Each  wanted  to  give  a 
history  of  her  child  since  it  was  born;  but  I 
cut  them  short  and  compelled  them  to  confine 
themselves  to  the  necessary  record. 


AND  SHE  WENT  OVER  BACKWARDS,  CARRYING 
THE  BABY  WITH  HER 

I  noticed  that  my  young  friend  was  still 
swelled  up,  red  in  the  face,  and  holding  one 
hand  over  his  mouth. 

When  I  came  to  the  last,  who  was  a  little, 
dumpy  woman,  with  a  dress  too  short  in  front 
and  too  long  behind,  I  asked : 

"Well,  madam,  what  ails  your  baby?" 

She  answered  in  a  very  high  keyed  voice, 
and  talking  very  rapidly, 


THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN  177 

"Well,  Doc.,  I  don't  know  jest  what  is  the 
matter  with  him.  He  always  has  been  a  little 
hivey,"  stretching  out  the  word  "hivey"  to 
about  three  times  its  proper  length.  I  heard 
the  young  doctor  start  to  explode,  but  he 
pressed  down  the  valve  and  held  on. 

As  they  turned  around  and  took  seats  one 
large,  fat  woman  sat  down  in  a  rickety  chair, 
one  hind  leg  of  which  went  through  a  crack 
in  the  floor,  and  she  went  over  backwards, 
carrying  the  baby  with  her.  My  young  friend 
broke  down  and  laughed  aloud  and  incon- 
tinently bolted  for  the  door.  He  went  around 
the  house  with  his  hands  over  his  mouth  and 
his  head  down,  and,  before  he  knew  it,  ran  right 
into  the  crowd  of  big  girls  which  we  had  seen 
on  entering  the  house,  and  flushed  the  whole 
covey.  They  went  yelling  and  laughing  in  all 
directions. 

The  other  women  formed  a  line  with  the 
regularity  and  alertness  of  trained  soldiers  and 
covered  the  person  of  the  fat  woman  until  she 
scrambled  to  her  feet. 

I  bade  them  "good  day,"  and  called  my 
confused  young  friend.  As  I  went  out  one  of 
the  women  was  talking  somewhat  angrily,  and 
I  heard  another  one  say, 

"Hush,  ^Landa,  he'll  hear  you." 

"I  don't  care  ef  he  does,"  the  other  answered. 
"I  don't  see  no  use  in  nobody  laughin',  if 
somebody  did  fall  over." 

This  was  meant  for  the  young  doctor,  for 
I  had  maintained  my  equilibrium  through- 
out. 

After  we  had  gotten  away  from  the  house  the 
young  doctor  asked: 


178  THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN 

"Doctor,  is  this  just  an  ordinary  day  with 
you  ?" 

11  No,"  I  answered,  "  fortunately,  no.  This 
is  the  spice.  We  get  our  pie,  good,  bad  and 
indifferent;  but  this  is  the  spice  that  goes  into 
it.  This  kind  of  thing  shakes  the  doctor  up, 
and  brings  the  rich  butter  to  the  top.': 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I  will  take  my  mince  pie 
without  any  spice." 

But,  really,  such  things  do  a  doctor  no  harm, 
unless  he  is  weak  enough  to  lose  his  temper. 
I  didn't  get  any  pay  out  of  my  visit  to  Kee- 
secker;  but  I  got  what  is  better,  many  a  jolly 
laugh,  and,  at  last,  a  good  part  of  this  chapter. 

Does  the  Branch- Water  Man  tell  lies? 
Yes,  almost  necessarily.  His  life  and  actions 
will  not  bear  the  truth.  His  conduct  and  habits 
as  a  man,  husband,  father  and  citizen  are  so 
contrary  to  what  they  should  be,  that  he  is 
compelled  to  lie  in  order  to  bolster  himself  up. 
His  lies  usually  take  the  form  of  reasons  and 
explanations,  as  to  why  he  did  this  thing,  or 
did  not  do  that. 

He  is  always  explaining  the  condition  in 
which  he  is  found — his  abject  poverty  and  his 
utter  lack  of  all  that  goes  to  make  life  not  only 
comfortable,  but  even  bearable. 

When  he  goes  to  a  new  place  he  will  tell 
most  wonderful  lies  of  this  kind.  He  will  tell 
how  well  fixed  he  was,  "back  yonder  where  I 
came  from;"  and  what  a  streak  of  bad  luck 
struck  him;  how  his  stock  died;  how  all  the 
members  of  his  family  were  sick,  and  the 
immense  sums  of  money  he  paid  out  for  doc- 
tor's bills.  If  one-half  of  the  story  were  true 
it  ought  to  make  him  a  hero. 


THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN  179 

Old  Darling  was  a  typical  Branch-Water 
Man  and  he  was  one  of  the  worst  liars  I  ever 
knew.  His  lies  were  so  abrupt,  far-fetched, 
unexpected  and  startling  that,  while  you 
were  compelled  to  admire  his  genius  (the 
Branch-Water  Man  is  not  a  man  of  genius,  as 
a  rule)  yet  you  were  left  with  a  feeling  of  hav- 
ing been  outdone  and  overmastered,  and  that, 
too,  by  a  man  who  was,  in  the  commonest 
acceptation  of  the  word,  "or'nary." 

I  have  known  liars  whose  lies  had  a  sooth- 
ing effect  upon  me;  -whose  lies  fell  like  a  bene- 
diction on  a  pained  and  wounded  heart;  but 
not  so  with  Darling.  He  literally  overcame 
you  with  his  lies  and  nothing  that  you  could 
do  or  say  would  in  the  least  way  compete  with 
or  offset  them. 

I  was  attending  the  child  of  an  industrious 
mechanic  when  Darling  came  in.  My  first 
view  of  him  told  me  plainly  that  he  was  no 
ordinary  man  of  his  kind.  He  was  tall — full 
six  feet  three;  was  stoop  shouldered,  and  he 
had  a  neck  which  was  long  in  front  and  short 
behind— giving  the  back  of  his  head  the  appear- 
ance of  lying  almost  between  his  shoulders. 
He  had  the  largest  "Adam's  apple"  that  I 
ever  saw,  and  when  he  would  swallow,  it 
would  malce  excursions  up  and  down  like  a 
small  elevator;  and  he  had  the  worst  bow  legs 
that  I  ever  saw.  Now,  as  the  reader  knows, 
tall  men  are  not  bow  legged  as  a  rule;  but 
Darling  was  an  exception.  If  his  legs  had  been 
straight  I  do  verily  believe  that  he  would  have 
been  over  seven  feet  high.  His  legs  looked 
like  exaggerated  parentheses.  I  have  heard  of 
men  being  so  bow  legged  that  they  could  not 


180  THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN 

head  off  a  pig.  Darling  could  not  of  headed 
a  yearling  calf;  and  his  legs  were  so  very  long 
in  proportion  to  his  height!  Why,  he  looked 
like  he  had  been  split  up  almost  to  the  neck. 
There  was  just  a  little  space  left,  just  above 
his  hips,  for  lungs.  Well,  he  came  in,  and, 
after  making  a  profound  bow,  asked: 

"Are  you  the  doctor?" 

"I  am  a  doctor"  I  replied,  "but  not  the 
doctor." 

"Well,"  continued  Darling,  "ef  you  have 
no  objections  I'd  like  to  ask  you  a  few  ques- 
tions. 

I  authorized  him  to  go  ahead. 

"Well,  now,"  said  he,  slowly,  "in  the  first 
place,  does  a  woman  ever  go  crazy  from 
hysterics?" 

"Yes,"   I   answered,    "we   have   a  form  of 
insanity  which  we  call  hysterical  mania." 

"Well,  now,  another  question:  does  a  woman 
ever  go  crazy  from  epilepsy?" 

"Yes,  we  have  a  form  of  insanity  called 
epileptic  mania"  I  replied. 

"Well,  now,  can  you  cuore  it?" 

I  evaded  and  explained  and  then  asked  Dar- 
ling for  the  history  and  symptoms.  He  gave 
them — the  case  being  none  other  than  that  of 
his  young  wife.  He  wound  up  his  statement 
of  the  case  by  informing  me  that  "no  longer 
than  this  mornin'  she  throwed  the  skillet  at 
my  head  and  run  a  young  man  that  is  stayin' 
at  my  house  off  the  place  with  *he  ax."  He 
continued, 

"She's  ben  sick,  sir,  more'n  four  year,  an' 
in  that  time  I've  paid  out  twenty-four  thousand 
dollars  in  doctor's  bills." 


THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN  181 

I  suggested,  in  a  quiet  way,  that  I  presumed 
that  the  doctor  to  whom  he  paid  this  large 
amount  of  money  had  retired  from  practice. 

"They  war  more'n  twenty  of  'em,  sir.  Yes, 
sir,  more'n  twenty,  an'  they  hain't  none  of 
them  done  her  no  good." 

Would  I  see  her? 

I  evaded  and  explained  some  more  and  the 
matter  ended  with  an  understanding  between 
Darling  and  myself  that  he  would  see  the  mayor 
and  have  him  direct  me  to  see  the  case  on 
behalf  of  the  city. 

I  found  the  woman  to  be  really  insane. 
She  was  the  young  wife  of  an  old  man,  had  a 
young  baby,  and  with,  practically,  no  home, 
with  poor  nourishment,  added  to  a  natural 
tendency,  what  little  intellect  she  had  had  left 
its  seat  and  taken  a  walk. 

With  city  drugs,  city  groceries  and  city 
doctor  the  woman  soon  recovered. 

At  my  last  visit  Darling  asked  if  he  could 
ride  down  town  with  me. 

This  was  a  thing  that  I  did  not  often  permit 
men  of  his  class  to  do;  but,  as  I  had  some 
sharp  talk  for  Darling,  I  told  him  to  get  in. 
When  he  sat  down  in  the  buggy  his  knees  came 
almost  up  to  his  chin. 

I  begait. 

"How  is  it,  Darling,  that  you  find  yourself 
here,  at  the  age  of  fifty,  in  such  a  condition  as 
you  are — with  the  city  furnishing  you  with  a 
doctor,  drugs  and  victuals?  It  seems  to  me 
that,  with  the  advantages  that  such  a  country 
as  this  has  afforded  you,  and,  with  nobody  to 
care  for  but  your  wife  and  baby,  you  ought  to  do 
better  than  you  have  done  and  not  half  try." 


182  THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Darling,  "it's  jest  as  I 
told  you,  I've  spent  twenty-four  thousand 
dollars  in  doctor's  bills  on  that  woman  in  the 
last  four  year." 


•AN'  IT  FELL  ACROST,  ER-AH,  ACROST  THE  WETHERS 
OF  ONE  AN'  THE  LINES  OF  THE  OTHER." 

"How  was  it  when  you  came  here?  Didn't 
you  have  a  team  or  something?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  had  as  fine  a  pair  of  hosses  as 
ever  sot  foot  on  Mesoora  soil." 

Just  at  this  juncture  we  came  in  sight  of 
a  livery  stable  in  front  of  which  a  beautiful 


THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN  183 

span  of  black  horses  stood  hitched  to  a  nice 
rig.  I  saw  Darling  look  at  them  and  then  he 
continued : 

"They  was  a  par  of,  er-ah,  of-er- blacks.  I 
brought  them  from  Eelinoy,  an'  I  paid  three 
hundred  dollars  for  'em  before  I  started  for 
Mesoora." 

"What  did  you  do  with  them,  Mr.  Darling? 
Did  you  sell  them  and  eat  up  the  proceeds?" 

"No,  sir.  I  tuck  'em  out  to  my  father-in- 
law's  in  the  country  an',  er-ah-er-rum,  I  er- 
turned  'em  out  in  his  paster,  an'  they  was, 
a-er-ah-er-rum,  a  big  storm  come  up  one  day, 
an',  er-ah,  they  was  a  standin'  about  as  them 
hosses  is  a  standin'  thar"  (pointing  to  the 
blacks)  "under  a  tree-a-er-ah-a  big  oak  tree, 
an'  the  storm  blowed  the  tree  down,  an'  it  fell 
acrost  er-ah  acrost  the  wethers  of  one  an'  the 
lines  of  the  other  one,  an'  er-ah  an'  killed 
both  of  them,  an'  er-ah,  an'  er-rum,  an'  killed 
twenty-three  hogs  for  my  father-in-law!" 

There  was  a  painful  pause  and  then  I  asked : 

"Darling  were  there  any  cattle  in  that  lot?" 

"Well,  er-ah,  no;  why?"  answered  Dar- 
ling with  some  astonishment. 

"I  didn't  know,"  I  said,  "but  what  such 
a  terrible  storm  as  that  might  have  killed  some 
cattle,  alsQ!" 

"No,"  said  Darling,  "no,  sir,  they  wasn't 
no  cattle  killed— nothing  killed  but  jest  them 
hosses  an'  them  hogs." 

But,  he  evidently  saw  the  point  in  my 
question.  He  grew  uneasy.  He  shifted  and 
twisted  around  in  his  seat  and  tried  to  cross 
his  legs,  which  he  failed  to  do;  and,  finally, 
looking  somewhat  embarrased,  he  reached  out 


184  THE  BRANCH-WATER  MAN 

his  right  hand  and  laid  it  on  the  lines;  and, 
in  a  dazed  sort  of  way,  said, 

"Who-o-o-o." 

I  stopped  the  horse. 

"I  guess  I'll  get  out  here,"  said  Darling, 
as  he  untangled  his  parenthetic  legs.  He 
climbed  slowly  out  of  the  buggy  and  walked 
straight  away — not  looking  back  and  not  say- 
ing good  bye. 

A  few  days  afterward  I  came  up  behind 
Darling  on  the  street.  He  had  on  a  short 
coat  and  I  could  look  between  his  legs  and  see 
the  people  on  the  street  beyond,  like  looking 
through  an  arch  or  a  tunnel.  I  walked  past 
him  and  he  saw  me;  but  he  did  not  recognize 
me,  nor  speak  to  me.  I  had  mortally  offended 
him  by  doubting  one  of  his  best  lies. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY 
PRACTICE 

THE  COUNTRY  DOCTOR  —  THE  YOUNG  DOC- 
TOR'S DREAM — OBSTACLES — MY  FIRST  CASE — 
LAUGHING  DOWN  HER  THROAT — THE  WIDOW 
B.  AND  THE  NIGHT  I  SLEPT  WITH  THE  CAT 
— A  BLOOD  CURDLING  INCIDENT. 

HERE  are  few 
callings  in  life 
!  which  bring  so 
'much  of  toil  and 
hardship  without 
recompense,  and 
so  tax  a  man  in 
his  mental  and 
physical  powers 
without  adequate 
return  as  that  of 
the  practice  of  medicine.  This  is  especially  true 
of  the  country  practitioner,  and  more  especially 
true  of  the  young  country  practitioner. 

I  know  what  the  dream  of  the  young  doctor 
is  before  he  starts  out  in  practice.  He  imagines 
himself  settled  in  a  prosperous  and  growing 
city.  He  occupies  two  or  three  magnificently 
furnished  rooms  in  one  of  the  best  business 
blocks  for  an  office.  In  imagination  he  sees 
himself  sitting  in  this  splendid  palace,  and  the 
"Judge,"  the  "General,"  and  the  "Colonel," 
the  first  citizens  of  the  town,  coming  to  him 
to  have  their  ailments  attended  to,  and  calling 


186     UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE 

him  to  their  residences  in  cases  of  serious  ill- 
ness, "and  all  goes  merry  as  a  marriage  bell." 
He  is  cruel  enough  in  his  vain-glorious  imagi- 
nation to  get  up  a  case  of  serious  sickness, 
with  the  Judge's  only  daughter  as  the  patient. 
She  is  sick  almost  unto  death,  and  he  gets  up 
some  private  theatricals  when  he  announces 
that  the  crisis  is  passed  and  the  fair  one  is 
safe;  when  the  mother  in  her  joy  weeps  out  her 
thanks  upon  his  scientific  neck,  while  the  Judge, 
in  a  gruff  and  dignified  way,  hands  him  a  check 
big  enough  to  buy  a  small  town,  and  says: 

"Take  her,  my  dear  doctor,  take  her;  you 
have  fairly  won  her  and  she  is  yours." 

This  is  the  way  it  happens  before  we  begin, 
but  it  is  far  from  the  reality.  We  find  at  last 
that  it  is  in  our  profession,  as  it  is  in  every- 
thing else,  that  which  is  worth  having  must  be 
procured  at  the  sacrifice  of  great  labor. 

The  young  doctor,  in  order  to  do  any  prac- 
tice at  all,  is  often  compelled  to  begin  his  pro- 
fessional career  in  a  very  small  town,  or,  it 
may  be,  at  a  country  cross-roads.  His  first 
calls  are  generally  to  such  cases  among  the 
poor  as  have  exhausted  the  patience  and  skill 
of  the  "old  doctor."  He  has  a  chance  to 
begin  the  practical  part  of  his  business  where 
poverty  dwells,  where  rags  and  squalor  greet 
the  eye.  True  charity  and  the  young  doctor 
make  their  visits  to  the  same  places — the 
abodes  of  the  humble  and  the  poor.  He  soon 
finds  that  the  life  of  the  true  physician  is  one 
full  of  hardship  and  toil,  of  heart  aches  and 
disappointments,  and  brings,  perchance,  as 
much  weariness  of  body  and  mind  as  any  other 
business  or  profession  he  might  have  chosen. 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE     187 

Our  business  would  be  relieved  of  half 
the  toil  necessary  to  its  successful  prosecution, 
if  there  was  a  more  intelligent  understanding 
of  it  and  less  superstition  concerning  it  than 
there  is. 

The  young  student  or  the  layman  who  reads 
this  may  fail  to  see  how  these  things  affect  the 
doctor,  but  the  student  will  find  out  after  he 
enters  upon  the  practice.  He  will  find  that 
he  is  practising  a  mysterious  art,  amongst  a 
people  whose  ancestors  hung  persons  sus- 
pected of  the  power  of  witchcraft,  and  who 
abused  and  ostracised  the  unfortunate  insane 
and  their  families.  These  people  will  have  it 
that  there  is  a  great  mystery  hanging  about 
our  profession.  They  have  inherited  many  of 
the  queer  ideas  and  superstitious  notions  of 
their  ancestors.  We  find  them  still  carrying 
potatoes  in  their  pockets  for  the  cure  of  rheu- 
matism and  buckeyes  for  another  complaint; 
and,  notwithstanding  the  so-called  enlighten- 
ment of  this  century,  they  insist  on  putting 
their  faith  in  such  things  as  burnt  feathers 
and  laying  on  of  hands.  Almost  any  man  we 
meet  (no  matter  how  intelligent  he  may  be 
concerning  other  things)  will  attach  more 
importance  to  a  remedy  if  there  is  an  air  of 
mystery  about  it  than  he  will  if  it  is  something 
so  simple  that  its  value  can  be  practically 
demonstrated  to  him.  We  find  that  these 
people  insist  that  a  man  must  die  in  the  third 
congestive  chill,  and  that,  if  he  falls  into  the 
water  and  sinks  the  third  time,  the  "Ready 
method  of  Marshall  Hall"  will  be  of  no  avail, 
though  he  may  not  have  been  in  the  water  but 
one  minute. 


188     UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE 

It  is  a  great  damper  upon  the  feelings  of 
the  young  practitioner  to  leave  his  patient  one 
day  doing  well,  and  return  the  next  to  find  his 
or  her  nerves  knocked  into  "pi"  and  half  the 
neighborhood  holding  a  prayer  meeting  in  the 
supposed  chamber  of  death,  because  some  one 
has  discovered  that  a  bird  (seeking  refuge 
from  a  hawk)  has  flown  into  the  room,  or  an 
innocent  dove,  bereft  of  its  mate,  has  cooed  hi 
the  vicinity,  or  an  aspiring  hen,  imitating  her 
liege  lord,  has  crowed  aloud  in  the  barn  yard. 

The  intelligent  and  worthy  young  doctor 
who  is  struggling  to  earn  his  bread  can  not 
feel  otherwise  than  chagrined  when  he  sees 
people,  whose  practice  he  thinks  he  ought  to 
do,  patronizing  the  most  blatant  quacks  and 
quack  institutions  and  sending  away  large 
sums  of  money  for  advertised  quack  nostrums. 

I  saw,  several  years  ago,  in  one  of  our  large 
western  cities,  the  following  sign: 
"LEE   CHUNG, 
Washing,  Ironing 

and 
Headache  Doctor. 

Buttons  sewed  on  and  old  clothes  repaired. 
Patients  attended  at  all  hours  day  or  night." 

There  are  respectable  and  so-called  intelligent 
people  in  that  city,  who  would  be  ashamed 
to  be  seen  entering  the  Celestial  "Washee 
house"  as  a  patient  in  the  day  time,  but  who 
will  climb  his  back  stairs  in  the  "wee  sma* 
hours"  and  sit  awed  and  dumb  in  the  presence 
of  Chinese  herbs,  dried  toads  and  pulverized 
lizards. 

The  reader  will,  perhaps,  recognize  a  familiar 
fact,  when  I  state  that  there  are  not  three  ladies 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE     189 

out  of  five  in  his  state  (it  makes  no  difference 
which  state)  who  will  dare  to  have  a  dress  cut 
and  fitted  on  Friday,  and  very  few  men  or 
women  will  change  their  places  of  abode  or 
start  on  a  journey  on  the  same  awful  day. 

If  any  young  man  who  enters  the  profession 
should  start  out  and  travel  from  town  to  town 
dressed  in  the  fantastic  costume  of  an  Arab, 
perched  upon  the  back  of  a  camel,  and  should 
proclaim  by  hand-bills  and  posters  that  his 
remedies  are  all  "purely  vegetable,"  and  were 
brought  from  Central  Africa  by  the  Stanley 
Expedition,  he  would,  no  doubt,  do  much 
better  than  he  would  by  doing  an  honest  and 
legitimate  business.  If  obtaining  money  were 
the  only  consideration  we  might  all  adopt 
the  motto:  "Mankind  is  a  goose  and  I  was 
made  to  pick  him,"  and  succeed  much  better 
than  we  do  by  being  honest,  truthful,  con- 
scientious and  wise. 

If  any  man  disputes  this  I  will  simply  point 
him  to  the  magnificent  palaces  occupied  by 
ignorant  and  blatant  quacks  in  all  of  our  large 
cities,  and  then  to  the  humble  houses  of  the 
many,  many  hard  working  and  deserving 
physicians  everywhere. 

The  many  disappointments  and  heartaches 
of  the  young  doctor  are  sometimes  relieved  or 
varied  by  the  queer  and  ludicrous  things  that 
he  hears  or  that  happen  in  his  daily  rounds.  If 
he  has  a  keen  appreciation  of  the  ridiculous  he 
may  be  saved  from  suicide  at  least. 

Does  my  professional  reader  remember  his 
first  case?  I  shall  never  forget  mine.  When 
on  the  way  to  see  my  first  patient,  I  felt  like  I 
was  preparing  to  go  up  in  a  balloon.  On 


190     UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE 

entering  the  sick  room  I  had  a  sensation  as  if 
I  were  walking  on  sand  which  was  giving  way 
under  my  feet;  and  when  I  felt  his  pulse  (about 
which  I  am  afraid  I  knew  very  little)  and 
tried  to  look  dignified  and  wise,  the  objects 
in  the  room  grew  double  and  danced  around 
like  puppets  on  a  hand  organ.  But  I  pre- 
scribed. I  got  a  half-pint  bottle,  partly  filled 
it  with  water  and  put  in  something  for  each 
symptom  I  had  noticed  and  some  other  things 
"just  for  luck."  The  mixture  heaved  and 
swelled  for  a  few  times  like  the  tide,  turned 
all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  in  succession, 
and  then  settled  down  to  the  consistency  of 
soap  suds  with  a  heavy  sediment  at  the  bot- 
tom; and  the  poor  fellow  lay  there  and  took  a 
teaspoonful  of  that  stuff  every  three  hours 
and  actually  got  well.  He  believes  yet  that  I 
cured  him,  but  I  know  better. 

I  came  very  near  losing  the  practice  of  a 
good  family  once  by  an  inconsiderate  and 
untimely  laugh.  It  was  in  my  early  profes- 
sional life,  and  I  did  not  have  that  control 
over  my  emotions  that  older  persons  possess. 
I  was  called  to  see  a  lady  who  was  suffering 
with  a  sore  throat.  She  was  a  good  woman 
but  had  an  unearthly  mouth.  It  was  simply 
cavernous.  When  I  took  her  to  the  light  to 
examine  her  throat  she  opened  her  mouth  so 
wide,  rolled  up  her  eyes  so  peculiarly,  and 
put  on  such  a  doleful  expression  of  countenance 
that  I  broke  down  and  laughed  right  down 
her  throat.  That  laugh  echoed  and  reverberated 
through  the  deep  and  mysterious  labyrinths  of 
that  awful  chasm.  She  closed  her  mouth  with 
an  ominous  snap  and  asked  me  what  I  was 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE     191 

laughing  at.  I  don't  remember  what  answer 
I  made,  but  this  I  do  remember:  I  told  a 
little  "white  fib"  and  came  out  of  the  diffi- 
culty covered  all  over  with  mortification. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  first  case  in  which  I 
was  beaten  and  routed  by  the  manifestation 
of  the  superstitious  ideas  of  which  I  have  spoken. 

There  was  a  family  of  three  men  and  two 
women  recently  from  Canada,  who  had  been 
penned  up  all  winter  in  a  little  log  cabin  with 
two  rooms  and  living  upon  bread,  coffee  and 
over-salted  meat. 

They  were  more  or  less  affected  with  a  pe- 
culiar blood  condition,  popularly  called  scurvy. 
One  of  the  women  was  in  a  deplorable  condi- 
tion. Her  gums  were  bleeding  and  her  limbs 
were  purple  and  swollen.  I  prescribed  lemons 
and  vegetables  and  went  home  and  read  every- 
thing I  could  find  bearing  on  the  subject.  I 
called  two  days  afterwards  to  see  how  my 
patient  was  getting  along  and  found  that  they 
had  bought,  killed  and  skinned  a  sheep,  and 
had  wrapped  her  limbs  in  the  hide  and  had 
applied  small  bits  of  raw  mutton  across  her 
forehead,  under  her  eyes,  and  on  her  lips, 
chin,  and  neck.  They  knew  the  remedy  as 
soon  as  I  told  them  what  the  disease  was.  I 
admitted*  to  them  that  fresh  mutton  was  a 
good  thing  but  told  them  that  they  had  applied 
it  to  the  wrong  side!  The  woman  got  well  when 
turnip  greens  got  ripe. 

I  came  home  one  night  after  having  been 
lost  in  the  dark,  timbered  bottoms  of  the  river. 
I  had  floundered  around  in  the  darkness  for 
two  hours  during  which  time  I  had  dismounted 
several  times  in  order  to  find  the  road,  and  got 


192     UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE 

myself  covered  with  mud.  It  was  a  warm, 
cloudy  summer  night,  dark  as  pitch  and  threaten- 
ing rain.  I  had  taken  off  my  muddy  clothing 
and  was  preparing  for  the  rest  which  I  so  much 
needed,  when  the  familiar  "hello!"  came  from 
the  front  gate.  I  let  the  fellow  repeat  it  several 
times  and  then  went  to  the  door  and  asked 
what  was  wanted.  He  said  he  wanted  me  to 
go  out  into  the  State  of  Kansas  about  seven 
miles  to  see  the  widow  B. 

I  asked  him  to  give  me  the  symptoms  and 
I  would  send  her  some  medicine  and  come  out 
the  next  morning.  He  didn't  know  the  symp- 
toms; couldn't  give  me  the  least  idea  of  what 
her  ailment  was;  knew  nothing  in  fact  except 
that  she  was  very  sick  and  he  feared  she  would 
die  if  she  was  not  relieved  that  night.  Fearing 
that  the  woman  might  be  in  danger  and  hoping 
also  to  receive  the  influence  of  a,  perhaps,  rich 
widow,  in  a  new  neighborhood  I  decided  to  go. 
By  the  time  we  started  the  rain  began  to  pour 
down  in  torrents.  The  thunders  pealed  and 
boomed  and  the  lightnings  flashed  and  blazed 
in  our  immediate  vicinity  every  second. 

The  very  earth  shook  and  trembled  with  the 
shock  of  the  storm.  It  was  a  grand,  an  awful 
and  a  terrible  night. 

"  Sic  a  night  I  tak  the  road  in, 
As  ne'er  poor  sinner  was  abroad  in ; 
That  night  a  child  might  understand, 
The  de'il  had  business  on  his  hand." 

We  rode  on  through  this  war  of  the  elements 
— this  pitched  battle  of  Heaven's  artillery — 
with  nothing  to  guide  us  but  the  lightning's 
flash  and  the  instinct  of  the  scrub  horse  which 
my  messenger  rode.  We  finally  emerged  from 
the  timber  and,  being  informed  that  I  was  near 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE     193 

my  journey's  end,  I  strained  my  eyes  and  peered 
through  the  darkness  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
stately  mansion  of  the  supposed  rich  widow. 
Upon  ascending  a  gentle  slope  in  the  edge  of 
the  prairie  there  came  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning, 
and  by  its  light  I  saw,  clearly  outlined  against 
the  western  sky — a  single  log  cabin  with  no 
fence  around  it! 

We  dismounted  and  my  messenger  directed 
me  to  go  in  while  he  tied  the  horses.  I  went 
in  and  groped  around  in  the  darkness  until 
I  found  an  excuse  for  a  chair.  My  messenger 
came  in  and  struck  a  light,  and  this  is  the  way 
he  struck  it: 

He  uncovered  some  coals  in  an  old-fashioned 
fire-place;  turned  an  oven  lid  on  its  back  on 
these  coals;  got  a  chunk  of  bacon  from  a  sack 
in  the  corner,  from  which  he  cut  some  slices 
which  he  threw  on  the  oven  lid.  While  the 
grease  was  frying  out  of  the  bacon  he  got  a 
bucket  top  in  which  he  placed  a  cotton  rag 
twisted  like  a  whip  lash;  he  then  poured  the 
grease  into  the  bucket  top,  and  then  got  down 
in  the  attitude  of  a  Japanese  making  a  grand 
salaam  before  a  Tycoon  with  ten  tails,  and 
blew  until  the  rag  ignited. 

It  sputtered  and  fried  and  sizzled,  and  cast 
shadows  which  were  constantly  changing  from 
the  walls  to  the  floor.  By  this  light  I  was 
enabled  to  make  out  two  beds,  in  one  of  which 
were  four  boys.  On  the  edge  of  the  other  sat 
a  woman  about  forty- five  years  of  age,  with 
dark  hair,  combed  down  close  upon  the  sides 
of  a  low  forehead.  Her  eyes  were  small,  black 
and  penetrating;  her  nose  long  and  sharp,  and 
her  mouth  gave  her  the  appearance  of  having 


194     UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE 

been  struck  across  the  face  with  a  corn  knife, 
the  angles  of  the  gash  turned  down  and  the 
wound  healed  "by  the  first  intention." 

She  was  busy  folding  some  article  of  wearing 
apparel  into  as  small  a  compass  as  she  could 
get  it,  and  then  just  as  deliberately  unfolding  it 
again. 

After  viewing  her  awhile  I  said: 

"How  do  you  do,  madam?" 

"How  do  you  do,"  she  said. 

"Are  you  the  sick  lady?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  answered  in  a  whining  voice. 

"How  long  have  you  been  sick?" 

"About  thirteen  years." 

"Well,  but  you  are  worse  than  usual  to- 
night, are  you  not?" 

"No,  I  am  always  about  the  same." 

"Great  Heavens!"  I  thought;  "here  is  a 
woman  who  has  been  sick  for  thirteen  years 
and  has  waited  for  one  of  the  worst  nights  of 
her  whole  life  to  send  for  me." 

I  felt  and  thought  unutterable  things,  but 
I  did  nothing  rash.  I  had  a  family  and  couldn't 
afford  to  be  a  murderer.  I  think  now  I  ought 
to  have  thrashed  the  fellow  who  came  after  me 
for  his  participation  in  the  outrage.  I  con- 
tinued : — 

"What  do  you  complain  of?" 

"  I  have  a  pain  over  my  left  eye.  Dr.  Morse 
says  it  is  a  sun  pain." 

The  truth  of  the  whole  matter  was,  as  I 
afterwards  learned,  that  she  had  got  mad  at 
her  oldest  son  and  sent  him  after  the  "new 
doctor"  for  a  punishment.  She  was  part  In- 
dian, but  had  enough  white  blood  in  her  to 
make  her  mean. 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE      195 

I  gave  her  a  quieting  powder  and  prepared 
to  remain  all  night,  as  I  could  not  think  of 
going  out  into  the  storm  again. 

The  messenger  prepared  me  a  bed  and  this 
is  the  way  he  gave  himself  to  this  task: 

He  dragged  one  of  the  four  boys  from  the 
bed,  and  while  he  was  dragging  number  two 
out  number  one  climbed  back  again,  and  num- 
ber two  got  in  while  he  was  pulling  number 
three  out. 


THEY  HAD  A  REGULAR  ALL  HANDS  AROUND 
FIGHT. 

I  sat  and  watched  the  circus.  They  had  a 
regular  "all  hands  around"  fight,  in  which  all 
took  a  part,  but  he  finally  "put  down  the  re- 
bellion," «and  triumphantly  pulled  a  feather 
bed  off  and  threw  it  on  the  floor,  without  sheet, 
blanket  or  pillow,  and  said : 

"Doc,  you  kin  sleep  thar." 

I  was  utterly  tired  out  and  so  lay  down  with 
my  pants  on.  He  threw  over  me  for  cover, 
an  old  Federal  army  overcoat. 

This  was  just  after  the  war  and  I  held  a 
blue  overcoat  in  perfect  horror. 


196     UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE 

The  bed  was  dirty  and  greasy — so  greasy 
that  my  face  actually  stuck  to  it — and  the  over- 
coat was  worse.  So,  from  shrinking  downward 
from  the  coat  and  upward  from  the  bed  I  was 
somewhat  in  the  condition  of  the  old  negro's 
fish — "awfully  swunk  up." 

Pretty  soon  a  cat  came  and  got  in  bed  with 
me.  He  did  not  say  so  much  as  "by  your  leave, 
sir,"  but  got  in  with  an  air  of  confidence  which 
indicated  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  sleeping 
in  the  "spare  bed"  with  company. 

Under  the  influence  of  his  gentle  and  sooth- 
ing purr  I  soon  fell  asleep.  As  I  had  my  wet 
clothing  on  I  soon  got  hot  on  the  under  side, 
which  necessitated  my  turning  over.  I  did  so, 
and,  of  course,  turned  over  on  the  cat.  That 
cat  "humped  himself"  and  clawed  for  the  free 
air  and  liberty.  He  uttered  an  exclamation, 
in  cat,  which  I  translated  to  mean  that  he 
wanted  me  to  move.  He  did  not  have  to  repeat 
it.  I  moved.  The  cat  seemed  to  be  ruffled  in 
his  feelings  and  so  concluded  to  sit  up  a  while. 
I  went  to  sleep.  I  do  not  know  how  long  it 
was  before  he  came  back  to  bed,  but  I  know 
that  when  I  turned  over  again,  he  was  there 
and  received  me  with  eclat. 

This  time  I  grabbed  the  cat  and  wildly  threw 
him  from  me.  He  went  into  the  fire.  Then 
the  ashes  and  spit  did  fly!  He  sat  before  the 
fire,  looked  into  it  pensively  and  licked  his  feet. 

If  it  had  been  the  widow  I  wouldn't  have 
cared,  but  I  was  sorry  for  the  cat.  I  turned 
over  on  him  about  a  dozen  times  that  night — 
the  cat  becoming  more  demonstrative  and  ob- 
streperous each  time.  Taking  it  altogether  he 
succeeded  in  setting  up  a  lively  counter  irrita- 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE     137 

tion  along  the  course  of  my  spine.  My  wife 
said  my  back  looked  like  a  railroad  map  of  the 
State  of  Illinois,  or  the  ledger  of  a  Chinese 
laundry. 

When  I  awoke  the  next  morning  the  sun  was 
pouring  his  gentle  beams  on  a  refreshed  earth, 
and  the  adjacent  forest  was  vocal  with  the 
music  of  the  song  birds. 


I  WILDLY  THREW  HIM  FROM  ME. 

I  think  the  flies  of  Kansas  were  holding  a 
state  convention  in  that  cabin,  with  a  full  dele- 
gation frqm  each  township  and  ward  in  the 
State.  When  I  attempted  to  make  out  some 
quinine  powders  they  sent  a  committee  of  one 
from  each  township  to  see  what  it  was.  It  was 
a  "smelling  committee"  and  it  went  vigorously 
to  work.  They  sat  on  my  powders  and  when 
I  would  "shoo"  them  away,  with  the  flapping 
of  their  wings  and  the  kicking  of  their  legs  they 
sent  my  quinine  flying  in  all  directions. 


198     UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE 

I  tried  it  over  and  over  again  until  I  wasted 
about  fifty  cents  worth  of  quinine.  I  then 
adjourned  to  an  oak  tree  some  twenty  rods 
away  and  finished  making  out  the  powders. 

Reader,  I  went  through  all  of  this  without 
getting  mad  or  swearing  (though  I  confess  the 
cat  wounded  my  feelings)  and,  as  I  rode  home 
that  beautiful  summer  morning  I  thought  that 
if  old  Uncle  Job  (I  think  I  had  a  right  to  call 
him  uncle,  then)  could  have  made  his  appear- 
ance on  earth  and  had  met  me,  he  would  have 
taken  me  by  the  hand  and  said : 

"  My  son,  I  am  glad  to  meet  you ;  I  am  really 
proud  to  meet  you.  There  are  so  few  of  our 
family  left  down  here  that  when  I  do  meet  one 
of  them  I  feel  like  embracing  him.  Shake!" 

I  remember  another  incident  about  this  time 
which  I  think  worth  recording. 

A  messenger  came  one  summer  Sunday 
afternoon  for  me  to  go  eighteen  miles  to  see  a 
sick  family.  I  knew  the  messenger.  He  was 
a  well-to-do  farmer,  a  bachelor,  and  an  occa- 
sional drunkard.  He  delivered  the  message, 
received  my  promise  to  come,  and  then  rode 
away. 

I  prepared  myself  for  the  journey,  got  into 
my  buggy  and  started  on  my  lonesome  drive. 
Twelve  miles  of  my  route  was  over  a  prairie, 
without  a  tree  or  a  house  to  break  the  monotony. 
It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  I  got  away 
and  by  the  time  I  had  traveled  the  first  six 
miles — where  I  had  timber,  the  river  and  farms 
— darkness  had  set  in.  It  was  dark,  not  pitch 
dark,  but  that  uncertain  light  mixed  with  the 
darkness  which  made  it  as  bad  as  if  there  had 
been  no  light  at  all.  There  was  a  shimmering 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE     199 

lightning  playing  low  down  upon  the  horizon 
in  the  south  and  southwest. 

After  I  entered  on  the  prairie  it  seemed  to 
me  that  I  was  either  just  about  to  plunge 
into  a  deep  chasm  or  run  into  an  impassa- 
ble bank  all  the  time.  I  drove  a  moon- 
eyed  horse — which  was  a  born  idiot.  When 
I  entered  on  the  prairie  I  struck  a  mere 
path  in  the  high  grass  which  led  diagonally 
across  the  country,  from  southeast  to  northwest; 
and  this  was  all  the  road  I  had  to  my  destina- 
tion. My  horse  soon  began  to  puff  and  snort, 
and  would  occasionally  sidle  out  and  leave 
the  path  entirely.  He  seemed  to  feel  that  the 
air  was  full  of  spooks  and  ghosts  and  all  man- 
ner of  supernatural  things.  His  apparent  fright 
put  me  to  thinking  of  robbers,  murderers  and 
other  beasts  of  prey.  I  soon  found  that  I  was 
scared.  I  am  not  ordinarily,  and  never  have 
been,  afraid  of  nights;  but  on  this  particular 
night  I  felt  the  cold  chills  run  up  and  down 
my  spine,  and  my  hair  would  rise  up  in  spite 
of  me. 

When  I  had  gotten  about  midway  of  the 
prairie  and  was  driving  at  a  lively  trot  my 
horse  suddenly  shied,  and  there  loomed  up  just 
to  my  right  a  great  black  something — I  could 
not  tell  wjiat.  I  knew  there  was  no  tree  or  bush 
or  habitation  of  living  thing  within  six  miles 
either  way.  With  the  instinct  of  self  preserva- 
tion and  defense  I  struck  out  at  this  object 
with  my  whip,  and  there  came,  of  all  the  sounds 
I  ever  heard  the  one  least  expected — that  of  a 
leather  saddles kirt! 

Anybody  who  ever  struck  a  saddleskirt  with 
a  stick  or  whip  knows  that  it  does  not  give  forth 


200     UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE 

a  sound  like  anything  else,  and  what  was  more, 
the  saddle  was  on  a  horse,  and  the  horse  jumped 
and  snorted.  My  own  horse  rose,  plunged 
forward,  and  went  some  ten  paces  before  I 
could  stop  him.  I  listened.  The  horse  would 
snort  and  then  chew.  Then  I  thought  I  heard 
men  talking  in  front  of  me.  Then  the  sound 
of  conversation,  which  was  low  and  indistinct 
— seemed  to  get  around  to  my  left;  then  it 


I  THREW  HIM  ON  HIS  BACK  AND  PINNED  HIM 
TO  THE  GROUND. 

would  shift  in  some  other  direction.  Then  the 
horse  would  snort  and  chew  again.  I  finally 
located  what  I  had  taken  for  the  low  conversa- 
tion in  the  neighborhood  of  the  horse.  I  deter- 
mined to  ferret  the  matter  out  and  see  what  it  was. 
I  dismounted  from  my  buggy,  tied  my  lines 
securely  and  went  slowly  and  cautiously  back 
toward  the  horse.  I  found  the  animal  quite 
gentle,  patted  him  and  felt  about  his  head,  and 
then  felt  for  the  bridle.  I  found  the  reins  and 
discovered  that  they  led  toward  the  ground 
and  were  fast.  I  followed  the  reins  toward  the 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE     201 

ground  and  here  found  them — in  a  man's  hand! 
The  man  was  prostrate  and  apparently  asleep. 
I  got  down  on  my  knees,  made  out  his  outlines 
and  then  &hook  him  and  called.  He  came  to 
a  sitting  posture  in  a  jiffy  and  reached  for  his 
pistol.  I  knew  he  was  reaching  for  his  pistol 
because  I  had  him  by  the  arms.  I  threw  him 
on  his  back  and  pinned  him  to  the  ground  with 
my  right  knee  on  his  chest.  He  struggled  but 
I  held  fast — telling  him  to  "be  quiet  and  don't 
shoot."  He  raved  and  swore,  and  finally,  dis- 
covering that  I  was  the  better  man,  asked: 

"Who  are  you,  and  what  do  you  want?" 

"I  am  Dr.  King,"  I  answered. 

"Why,  how  are  you,  doctor?"  said  he,  in 
a  natural  voice  which  I  at  once  recognized  as 
the  voice  of  my  messenger. 

He  had  got  into  a  saloon,  "by  that  little  side 
door,"  and  bought  a  pint  of  whisky,  which  he 
told  me  he  drank  in  the  first  six  miles.  By  the 
time  he  reached  this  place  he  was  so  drunk 
that  he  felt  that  he  would  soon  fall  off;  so  he 
dismounted  and  lay  down  to  sleep  off  his  drunk 
and  give  his  excretory  organs  time  to  throw  off 
the  alcohol. 

The  voices  I  seemed  to  hear  were  nothing 
more  than  the  occasional  snoring  of  this  drunken 
man.  , 

But  it  was  the  worst  scare  I  ever  had  in 
my  life.  From  that  hour  until  now  my  hair 
has  been  a  light  chestnut  sorrel — the  same  color 
it  was  before.* 

*  This  notion  about  a  person's  hair  turning  grey  in  an  in- 
stant, or  in  a  single  night,  is  a  myth.  No  such  thing  ever  oc- 
curred. It  is  a  physiological  and  physical  impossibility.  Even 
if  the  hair  follicle  should  die  at  once  the  hair  would  remain  its 
original  color  until  it  grew  out.  It  is  always  safe  to  doubt  any- 
thing which  can  not  be  explained  or  accounted  for  on  reasonable 
or  scientific  grounds. 


CHAPTER  XI 

UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED 


A  CONTRAST — HOW  TO  TELL  WHEN  YOUR 
PATIENT  IS  DEAD — CUPPING  THE  OLD  LADY 
— SMART  PEOPLE — THE  SICK  HORSE — 
FIGHTING  FIRE — THE  PRAIRIE  MIRAGE — 
HOME  AGAIN. 

HE  city,  physician  has  opportuni- 
ties which   his  less  favored  coun- 
try  brother   has  not,  and  enjoys 
advantages    which     the     country 
brother    craves,    but 
never      possesses. 
There  are   the  medi- 
cal colleges,  the  post- 
mortems, the  dissect- 
ing   rooms    and    the 
medical  societies.  But 
the    country    brother 
has   the   free  air,  the 

night  rides  and  an  unrestrained  liberty  with 
wild  and  uncultivated  nature,  and  above  all,  he 
has  for  his  clientele  the  great  middle  classes — the 
farmers — the  noblest  and  best  of  God's  creation 
in  any  country.  Of  course  he  has  his  poor, 
who  are  ignorant  and  don't  pay.  So  do  all, 
everywhere;  but  the  best  of  all  is  that  the  best 
of  those  who  patronize  the  country  doctor  are 
a  noble  and  free  people — a  people  so  free 
indeed  that  they  will  not  suffer  themselves  to 
be  hampered  by  foolish  social  customs. 


204 


UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED 


There  are  many  things  which  the  country 
doctor  learns  by  experience  besides  how  to 
give  medicines. 

He  learns  how  to  tell  when  his  patient  is 
dead  before  he  reaches  the  house.  Now,  the 
city  doctor  would  look  for  crepe  on  the  door; 
but  not  so  with  the  country  brother.  You  do 


I  APPROACH  THE  HOUSE  SLOWLY  AND  LOOK 
FOR  THE  BED. 

not  find  crepe  there.  Now  my  aesthetic  reader 
raises  his,  her  or  its  hands  in  holy  horror  and 
says: 

"What  awfully  hawid  customs!  How  can 
they  die  without  cwape  on  the  door?" 

"Well,  they  just  die.  People  have  died,  my 
dear  aesthetic  noodle,  where  there  was  no  crepe 
— they  died  even  before  crepe  was  made,  you 
poor  silly  thing.  It  requires  a  great  deal  to 
help  us  to  live,  but  it  requires  nothing  to  help 
us  to  die.  Of  all  the  things  that  we  do  dying 


UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED  206 

requires  the  least  assistance.  A  man  will  die 
sometimes,  if  you  will  go  off  and  leave  him 
alone  and  don't  help  him  any. 

But  how  can  the  country  doctor  tell  before 
he  reaches  the  house  whether  or  not  his  patient 
has  "stepped  across  the  way,"  since  his  last 
visit  ? 

By  the  bed  on  the  fence! 

The  people  (at  least,  many  of  them)  have 
a  habit,  when  one  of  the  family  dies,  of  taking 
the  bed  upon  which  the  dead  one  lay  and  the 
clothes  which  covered  him  and  putting  them 
on  the  yard  fence.  As  a  rule  the  more  ig- 
norant, uncultivated  and  thoughtless  they  are, 
the  nearer  they  will  get  it  to  the  front  gate. 

Oh,  how  I  have  strained  my  eyes  and 
looked  for  that  bed.  I  left  my  patient  the  day 
before  with  a  high  fever,  a  rapid  and  weak 
pulse,  and  all  the  evidences  of  coming  dis- 
organization and  death,  and  went  home  to 
think  and  wait.  My  opinion  is  that  I  will 
never  see  him  alive  again.  I  approach  the  house 
slowly  and  look  for  the  bed.  I  think  that, 
perhaps,  they  have  made  a  mistake  and  put  it 
on  the  back  fence.  I  therefore  pull  my  horse 
over  a  little  toward  the  horse  lot  in  order  to 
get  a  view  of  the  back  yard;  and  if  I  see  no 
bed  how  my  heart  leaps.  I  have  one  more 
chance  to  stimulate  and  bolster  up  the  vital 
powers  and  perchance  to  save  his  life. 

But  the  country  doctor  makes  his  mistakes 
as  well  as  his  city  brother. 

I  remember  well  my  first  mistake,  and  it 
annoyed  me  not  a  little. 

In  my  first  practice  I  soon  met  the  smart 
old  woman  "who  loved  to  nurse  sick  folks." 


206  UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED 

She  wore  a  bandana  handkerchief  around  her 
head  and  a  mole  on  her  nose,  and  was  good 
at  making  mustard  draughts,  mush  poultices 
and  suggestions.  The  old  lady  and  I  soon 
became  fast  friends,  and  would  have  remained 
so,  I  suppose,  if  she  had  not  fallen  sick.  She 
sent  for  me.  She  had  a  terrible  pain  in  the 
region  of  the  umbilicus  and  I  decided  to  cup 
her.  Having  no  cupping  glasses,  I  had  to 
resort  to  something  of  domestic  use,  and,  after 
some  thought,  decided  upon  a  glass  tumbler. 
They  brought  me  a  very  large  one.  Having 
exposed  the  parts  to  be  cupped  I  put  a  burn- 
ing paper  into  the  bottom  of  the  glass  and 
when  the  air  was  expelled  I  quickly  inverted 
it  over  the  abdomen.  The  abdominal  parieties 
were  lax  and  unresisting,  and  so  the  whole 
abdomen  just  walked  right  into  the  glass.  It 
went  in  with  a  whiz,  in  fact.  The  old  lady 
howled  and  the  glass  kept  pulling  in  more 
abdomen.  "Nature  abhors  a  vacuum,"  but  I 
don't  think  I  ever  saw  nature  where  she  was  so 
abhorrent  as  in  this  case.  She  seemed  dis- 
gusted with  it  in  fact,  and  determined  to  fill 
it  if  it  took  the  whole  abdomen  and  the  old 
woman  with  it  to  complete  the  job.  The 
glass  pulled  in  about  a  quarter  of  an  acre  and 
then  stopped  and  shook  itself,  but  didn't  let 
go.  By  this  time  the  old  woman  began  to  yell 
vociferously  and  declared  that  I  was  killing 
her.  The  vacuum  had  pulled  the  symphisis 
pubis  up  to  one  side  of  the  glass  and  the  scro- 
biculis  cordis  to  the  other,  and  she  was  doubled 
up  so  that  her  back  began  to  crack,  and  I 
really  began  to  have  fears  for  the  integrity  of 
her  spine.  She  yelled  louder  and  I  attempted 


UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED 


207 


to  pull  the  glass  loose.  Did  you  ever  try  to 
part  two  fighting  bull  dogs?  Well,  that  was 
nothing  to  the  glass.  When  I  tried  to  insert 
my  finger  so  as  to  let  the  air  in  some  more 
abdomen  crawled  in,  and  the  old  woman's 
shoulders  hung  forward  and  looked  suspic- 
iously like  a  subcaraoid  dislocation  of  both 
humeri  and  her  knees  flew  up.  I  am  not 
easily  disconcerted  but  this  upset  me.  I  felt 


I  GOT  A  HATCHET  AND  BROKE  THE  GLASS 

like  a  fool,  and  for  the  time  I  thought  I  was 
but  I  know  better  now.  I  was  just  mistaken 
a  little  in  the  matter  of  how  to  cup.  But  I 
was  the  Alexander  who  had  to  untie  this  Gor- 
dian  knot  and  I  did  it  in  much  the  same  man- 
ner as  Alexander.  I  got  a  hatchet  and  broke 
the  glass.  When  I  drew  back  to  strike  the 
blow,  the  old  lady  threw  up  both  hands,  shut 
her  eyes,  raised  her  voice  from  "A  minor,"  to 
"high  G,"  a  key  she  had  not  struck  before. 
But  I  struck  the  blow.  The  glass  flew  all  over 


208  UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED 

the  house  and  the  mountains  went  back  to  the 
valleys  again. 

She  called  me  a  fool  and  I  didn't  dispute  it 
for  I  was  so  confused  that  I  didn't  know  whether 
I  was  or  not. 

We  never  spoke  again. 

The  country  doctor  has  the  same  trouble 
with  smart  people  who  wish  to  prescribe,  or 
teach  him  how  to  do  so,  that  his  city  brother  has. 

You  may  find  a  man  occasionally  who  is 
willing  to  admit  that  he  does  not  know  how  to 
treat  a  sick  horse,  but  you  do  not  find  many 
who  do  not  think  they  know  how  to  prescribe 
for  a  sick  neighbor.  It  requires  adroit  diplo- 
macy, in  city  or  country,  to  get  these  people 
out  of  the  way  without  the  aid  of  the  coroner. 

Speaking  of  prescribing  for  sick  horses 
reminds  me  of  an  incident  which  happened 
only  a  few  years  ago.  Passing  down  the 
street  one  day  in  company  with  a  prominent 
minister  of  the  gospel  in  my  town,  we  dis- 
covered a  horse  lying  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street  and  a  man  standing  by  and  holding 
the  bridle.  The  horse  was  lying  flat  on  his 
side  with  his  head  and  legs  extended.  I  said 
to  the  minister: 

"There  is  a  sick  horse.  Let's  go  over  and 
see  what  proportion  of  the  passers-by  will 
prescribe  for  him." 

"What  makes  you  think  they  will  pre- 
scribe?" he  asked. 

"Never  mind,"  said  I,  "come  along  and  we 
will  see." 

We  stood  near  the  horse  and  waited.  A 
man  came  along,  stopped  and  looked  a  moment 
and  said: 


UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED  209 

"Hello!  what's  the  matter  with  your  horse?" 

"Got  the  colic,"  answered  the  owner. 

"Why  don't  you  give  him  fresh  lye  off  of 
ashes?  That'll  stop  it  in  a  jiffy;  always  cures 
mine." 

Then  another  came. 

"Hello!  what  ails  your  horse?" 

"Got  the  colic,"  was  the  answer  again. 

"Why  don't  you  give  him  butter-milk  and 
molasses?  That'll  knock  it  every  pop." 

Then  another: 

"Hello!  what  ails  your  horse?" 

Same  answer. 

"Give  him  ginger  and  pepper,  and  he'll  be 
all  right  in  fifteen  minutes." 

Another : 

"Why  don't  you  bleed  him  in  the  mouth?" 

"I  have,"  said  the  dejected  owner,  "don't 
you  see  the  blood?" 

"Oh,  yes,  sure  enough.  Well,  just  let  him 
alone;  that'll  fetch  him  out  all  right.' 

We  stood  there  about  thirty  minutes,  dur- 
ing which  time  seventeen  men  came  along 
and  fourteen  of  them  prescribed — scarcely 
any  two  having  the  same  prescription — which 
goes  to  show  the  unreliability  of  veterinary 
therapeutics  as  it  comes  from  the  crowd. 

"Well,"  said  the  minister,  "that  beats  all." 

He  came  to  my  office  the  next  morning, 
laughing  as  if  he  would  split  his  sides,  and  said : 

"I  went  home  last  night  and  told  my  wife 
of  our  funny  experience  with  the  sick  horse, 
and  before  she  had  time  to  see  the  point  she 
asked:  'Why  didn't  they  give  him  water  off 
of  green  coffee?  That's  the  way  pa  always 
cured  his.'" 


210  UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED 

This  only  shows  the  proneness  of  mankind 
to  prescribe  for  anything  that  is  sick.  The 
disposition  often  comes  from  an  inordinate  self 
conceit,  but  I  am  led  to  believe  that  it  comes 
oftener  from  a  desire  to  do  good. 

I  think  I  have  had  some  patients  killed  and 
I  know  I  have  had  many  seriously  injured  by 
this  unwarranted  interference  of  ignorant  out- 
siders. I  have  no  doubt  that  this  is  the  experi- 
ence of  every  physician.  The  younger,  the 
newer  to  the  community,  or  the  more  timid 
you  are,  the  more  trouble  you  will  have  from 
this  source. 

As  the  doctor  grows  older  and  especially  if 
he  develops  a  little  bull  dog  courage  as  he 
goes  along  and  gets  a  reputation  for  merci- 
lessly handling  those  who  change  his  treat- 
ment, the  less  trouble  he  will  have. 

My  first  practice  had  many  hardships.  The 
country  was  new,  and  what  settlements  there 
were  had  been  broken  up  during  the  war,  the 
people  driven  out  and  the  houses  and  farms 
burned.  Immigrants  were  coming  in  in  great 
numbers.  I  waited  on  them  in  wagons,  tents, 
under  sheds  and  in  stables.  I  would  occasion- 
ally find  three  or  four  in  one  bed  all  sick,  and 
when  they  were  stirred  up  there  was  generally 
an  odor  strongly  suggestive  of  a  saddle  blanket 
full  of  wet  cats. 

I  had  an  unlimited  range  of  territory.  Some- 
times in  going  or  coming  on  my  long  journeys 
at  night  I  would  get  lost  on  the  prairie.  This 
is  easily  done  on  a  dark  night,  more  especially 
if  you  have  a  young,  green  horse  which  does 
not  know  the  way  home.  Horses  are  like 
men — some  have  large  brains  and  good  judg- 


UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED  211 

ment;  others  have  small  brains  and  no  judg- 
ment at  all.  It  is  important  to  the  doctor 
that  his  horse  shall  know  everything  excepting 
how  to  prescribe.  He  should  be  such  a  horse  that 
— no  matter  how  far  you  may  be  from  home 
— you  can  drop  the  reins,  shut  your  eyes,  and 
let  him  go.  Ah,  how  many  a  sweet  mile  I 
have  slept  when  returning  home  at  night, 
sleepy,  tired  and  travel  worn,  on  the  back  of 
my  dear  old  "Tom."  I  used  to  say  that 
"Tom"  could  "cipher  to  the  single  rule  of 
three."  He  could  come  as  near  to  it  as  any 
horse  I  ever  knew.  But  if  your  horse  be  young 
and  ignorant  you  may  get  lost  in  spite  of  your- 
self. 

When  the  prairie  fires  come  and  the  atmos- 
phere gets  murky  it  is  very  hard  sometimes  to 
make  out  ground  with  which  you  are  ordi- 
narily perfectly  familiar.  These  fires  were  a 
terror  to  the  new  comer.  With  prairie,  unlim- 
ited prairie,  all  around  for  miles,  with  high 
grass,  dead  and  dry  as  tinder,  the  farms,  crops 
and  houses  unprotected,  well  may  the  frontiers- 
man be  afraid.  Men  and  women  all  learned 
to  be  exceedingly  shrewd  in  regard  to  fires,  as 
well  as  to  many  other  things;  for  upon  their 
knowledge  of  their  situation,  their  surround- 
ings and  all  things  that  threatened  them, 
often  depended  their  safety.  Here  is  no  uncom- 
mon case  in  those  days: 

The  father  is  away  from  home.  The 
family  is  sitting,  perhaps,  at  dinner.  A  little 
boy  comes  in  and  says: 

"Mamma,  I  see  smoke  over  yonder." 

"Over  where?"  asks  the  mother. 

"Why,  over  torge  the  creek." 


212  UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED 

The  mother  rises  and  goes  to  the  door,  puts 
the  thumb  side  of  her  hand  over  her  brow, 
and  strains  her  eyes  "torge  the  creek."  She 
goes  back,  uneasily  finishes  the  meal,  and  then 
looks  again.  The  smoke  hangs  along  the 
edges  of  the  timber  and  the  atmosphere  looks 
hazy.  Glancing  up  at  the  sun  she  notices  that 
it  is  red  and  the  outline  is  sharp  and  clear  cut. 
Gazing  toward  the  creek  again  she  sees  a  deer 
loping  gently  toward  the  farm.  He  stops  at 
the  corner  of  the  field,  loqks  back  over  his 
shoulder  in  the  direction  of  the  smoke,  then 
passes  on  across  the  prairie.  Then  the  mother 
hears  a  bell. 

"Why,"  says  she,  "that's  our  cow  bell  and 
there  comes  all  the  cattle,  old  'pink'  with  the 
bell  on  in  the  lead.  Yes,  there  must  be  a  fire 
comin'." 

Then  cautioning  the  younger  children  to 
stay  at  the  house,  and  taking  the  larger  girls 
and  boys  with  her,  she  seizes  a  burning  stick 
from  the  old  fashioned  fireplace  and  starts  for 
the  back  of  the  field.  When  she  ascends  the 
ridge  at  the  back  of  the  field  she  sees  more 
smoke,  and  an  occasional  red  tongue  leaping 
up  in  the  river  bottom  a  mile  or  two  away. 
Now  she  knows  there  is  fire,  and  she  begins 
the  task  of  "back  firing"  so  as  to  save  the 
farm.  She  takes  the  little  path  that  leads 
around  the  field  as  her  line  of  defence  and 
begins.  With  the  children  gathered  around 
her  she  gives  instructions.  She  is  the  captain 
who  is  to  conduct  this  battle,  and  her  orders 
must  be  obeyed.  The  children  are  armed 
with  bushes  or  with  old  sacks  tied  on  sticks 
and  dipped  in  a  bucket  of  water  which  has 


UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED  213 

been  brought.  She  sets  the  first  fire  and  orders 
the  children  to  whip  out  the  fire  on  the  side 
next  the  farm  and  not  let  it  cross  the  path. 
When  one  p'.ace  is  made  secure  she  passes  to 
another,  her  faithful  lieutenants  following  closely 
so  as  to  be  ready  to  execute  her  orders.  In 
this  way  she  passes  from  spot  to  spot,  always 
securing  one  point  before  beginning  another. 
The  air  becomes  rarefied  from  the  heat  and 
the  wind  rushes  in  to  fill  the  vacuum. 

"I  wonder  what  makes  the  wind  alPys  rise 
when  you're  fightin'  fire?"  says  one  of  the  boys, 
who  knows  nothing  of  rarefied  air  and  a  vacuum, 
and  who,  therefore,  looks  upon  the  conduct  of 
the  wind  in  such  a  case  as  being  purely  a 
piece  of  reprehensible  perversity,  for  which 
there  is  no  excuse. 

"You  keep  at  work  and  never  mind  the 
wind,"  says  the  captain  mother,  who  is  growing 
anxious,  for  another  boy  who  has  been  sent 
up  on  the  hill  to  note  the  progress  of  fire  has 
reported  that  "it's  risin'  the  ridge,  Mamma, 
you'd  better  hurry." 

The  smoke  thickens,  the  air  grows  more 
murky  and  the  sun  is  now  almost  hidden.  Oc- 
casionally a  blade  of  burning  grass  jumps  the 
path  and  sets  the  grass  afire  on  the  side  next 
the  field.  Then  all  the  children  leave  their 
places  and  fly  to  that  one  spot  until  this  nucleus 
is  extinguished.  Once  in  a  while  a  youngster 
falls  back  from  his  work  and  with  flushed  face 
and  protruding  eyes  breathes  hard  for  a  few 
seconds.  He  has  swallowed  smoke  and  become 
strangled. 

Now  comes  a  sound  as  of  cracking  whips, 
and  the  red  tongues  of  the  destroyer  are  seen 


214  UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED 

"risin'  the  hill."  Below  this  cracking  sound, 
there  is  a  low,  dull  roar  as  of  rushing  water, 
or  low,  distant  thunder.  The  captain  mother 
now  directs  each  child  to  take  a  piece  of  fire 
and  run  along  the  path  and  fire  at  regular  in- 
tervals and  fight  it  for  him  or  herself.  She 
moves  rapidly  from  one  to  another  and  helps 
where  she  is  most  needed.  Some  fire  jumps 
the  path  and  quickly  takes  hold  upon  the  dry 
fence  which  is  near  at  one  point.  All  hands 
rush  to  the  spot,  a  panel  is  thrown  down  and 
the  fire  quickly  extinguished.  They  now  reach 
the  corner  of  the  field  and  the  danger  is  almost 
passed.  The  main  body  of  the  fire  which  has 
passed  the  summit  of  the  ridge,  gathering  force 
from  the  rising  wind,  comes  thundering  down 
on  them  like  an  army  with  banners.  It  shrieks 
and  roars  and  leaps  in  the  air,  like  a  million 
devouring  demons,  and  sometimes  jumps  twenty 
or  thirty  feet  and  takes  hold  in  a  new  place. 
The  "back  firing"  was  all  done  when  the  corner 
of  the  field  was  reached,  but  they  must  now 
"side  fire"  down  the  other  side  of  the  field. 
This  is  not  so  hard,  for  the  destroyer  does  not 
come  at  them  directly  in  front.  He  is  passing 
and  they  "take  him  by  the  flank"  as  he  goes 
by.  The  captain  with  her  tired  little  band  well 
in  hand  now  pass  rapidly  down  the  last  side 
and  fires  and  whips  as  before.  The  main  body 
of  the  enemy  comes  sweeping  down  and  picks 
up  their  little  "side  fire,"  appropriates  and 
makes  it  a  part  of  itself,  and  then  rushes  madly 
on  to  the  timber  along  the  little  branch  below 
the  field.  Here  its  headway  is  so  great  that 
it  rushes  into  the  woods,  and  licking  up  the  dry 
leaves  and  all  inflammable  things,  even  climb- 


UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED  215 

ing  the  dead  trees  to  their  very  tops  and  sopping 
the  lichen  from  their  aged  trunks.  These  old 
trees  will  burn  far  into  the  night  and  light  up 
the  heavens  all  around — standing  as  a  monu- 
ment to  the  heroic  captain  mother  and  her  gal- 
lant little  band. 

The  mother  now  gathers  her  forces  and  goes 
back  over  the  ground  and  carefully  inspects 
every  doubtful  point.  Then  going  home,  with 
flushed  face,  and  bare,  red  arms,  she  gets  supper, 
while  the  tired  children  fall  asleep  here  and 
there  on  the  floor.  They  are  awakened  to  eat 
and  then  to  go  to  bed,  while  this  splendid 
mother  takes  to  her  breast  and  suckles  one  of 
the  future  heroes  of  the  Great  Republic. 

Oh,  such  a  woman  as  that  is  worthy  to  be 
called  mother.  At  the  breasts  of  such  as  these 
have  been  nursed  the  greatest  men  that  this  or 
any  other  country  has  ever  known. 

When  the  father  returns  he  hears  the  story, 
and  then  looking  around  at  his  wife  with  pride 
in  his  eye,  says: 

"Well,  old  woman,  I  guess  I'll  have  to  buy 
you  a  new  calico  dress." 

This  was  high  praise,  indeed;  for  a  calico 
dress  costs  a  whole  dollar. 

If  a  modern  belle  were  to  do  such  a  heroic 
deed  there  is  no  telling  the  reward  she  would 
receive  and  the  newspapers  would  be  filled  with 
her  praise. 

By  the  way,  when  I  have  seen  the  modern 
belle  go  up  the  street  clothed  in  modern  toggery, 
walking  with  wrist  drop,  high  heeled  shoes  and 
the  "Kangaroo  dip"  and  leading  a  little  dog 
by  a  long  ribbon,  I  have  often  contrasted  her 
with  the  heroic  border  mother  whose  heroism 


216  UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED 

I  have  so  feebly  described.  I  have  wondered 
at  such  times  what  the  modern  belle  is  good 
for.  I  can  think  of  but  one  thing.  She  is 
certainly  intended  for  the  mother  of  the  dude. 

Chesterfield  said: 

"It  takes  three  generations  to  make  a  gentle- 
man." 

I  don't  know  how  many  it  takes  to  make 
a  dude,  but,  judging  from  his  general  unfitness 
for  all  things  useful  I  am  forced  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  generations  have  about  run 
out  when  the  dude  is  made. 

But  I  digress.  I  started  out  to  tell  about 
getting  lost  on  the  prairie.  If  you  travel  through 
the  timber  you  have  your  points  which  will 
prevent  your  losing  yourself.  But  not  so  of 
the  prairie.  Here  is  a  great,  wide  waste  of 
prairie,  covered  with  grass,  and  you  have 
traveled  over  it  during  the  summer  time  and 
have  educated  your  sense  of  sight  to  a  certain 
perspective  from  certain  positions.  There  is 
a  house  in  the  distance  which,  when  seen  with 
a  different  coloring  of  the  grass  of  the  low  and 
high  lands,  looks  to  be  two  miles  away.  When 
this  grass  is  burned  you  have  nothing  but  a 
continuous,  black  foreground  between  you  and 
the  house  which  jerks  the  house  up  apparently 
to  within  a  half  mile.  If  you  strike  this  point 
just  at  dark  you  will  be  deceived.  So  are  the 
changes  everywhere.  But  to  come  upon  these 
changes  when  they  are  taking  place — when  a 
part  of  the  prairie  is  burned  and  a  part  un- 
burned,  with  a  wall  of  fire  between  and  smoke 
overhead  and  the  uncertain  light  that  comes 
with  sunset  and  a  glowing  western  sky,  it  will 
deceive  almost  anyone,  excepting  the  man  who 


UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED  217 

is  an  experienced  woodsman,  hunter  or  trapper. 
I  have  met  these  fires  in  coming  home  after 
a  long  journey,  and  I  must  say  that,  notwith- 
standing the  seeming  peril  to  which  one  is 
exposed  and  the  annoyance  consequent  upon 
being  lost,  it  was  worth  while  to  see  the  pic- 
tures I  have  seen.  I  have  seen  the  line  of  fire 
extending  for  miles.  The  grass  was  damp  and 
burning  slowly.  The  atmosphere  was  damp 
and  the  smoke  hung  low.  The  sun  was  just 
setting  and  the  whole  western  sky  was  aflame 
with  crimson.  Between  the  fire  and  the  red 
sky  was  the  timber,  and  the  smoke  hung  in  dark 
grey  wreaths  and  festoons  over  all.  Here  I 
have  seen  the  mirage.  The  fire  seemed  to  be 
in  the  midst  of  a  great  sea  of  water — the  trees 
looked  like  mountains  and  palaces  on  the  further 
shore ;  men  and  living  things  moved  about  upon 
the  face  of  the  water.  I  have  seen  the  outlines 
of  the  most  beautiful  palaces  on  this  other 
shore  and  great  ships  move  from  point  to  point 
in  the  sea,  and  small  boats  dart  here  and  there, 
and  men  would  get  up  and  walk  and  dance 
on  the  crest  of  the  fiery  billows. 

As  the  sun  would  sink  a  little  further  and 
the  sky  change  a  little  in  coloring  the  whole 
scene  would  change  and  I  would  get  an  entirely 
new  view  with  an  infinite  variety  and  beauty 
of  coloring.  The  fire  is  in  my  front,  but  I  can 
not  pass  it,  so  I  am  forced  to  the  necessity  of 
heading  it  off — going  around  it,  in  fact.  This 
I  undertake  to  do.  With  the  changes  constantly 
taking  place  in  the  picture  before  me  I  soon 
lose  my  bearings.  I  went  out  in  the  morning 
over  a  country  with  which  my  eyes  were  per- 
fectly familiar  and  return  at  night  with  a  fairy 


218 


UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED 


land  in  front  of  me  and  not  a  single  object  in 
any  direction  which  I  recognize  as  ever  having 
seen  before.  I  move  on,  keeping  my  eyes  fixed 
on  the  mirage  to  watch  the  wonderful  trans- 
formations taking  place  under  the  changing 
chiaroscuro  of  lights  and  shadows.  I  finally 
head  the  fire  off  and  put  it  at  my  back,  but  I 
am  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land.  Darkness 


I  SAW  MEN  GET  UP  AND  WALK  ON  THE 
FIERY  BILLOWS. 

has  set  in  and  I  am  utterly  and  hopelessly  lost. 
I  desire  to  go  in  a  certain  direction,  but  my 
faithful  horse,  when  given  his  head,  presses  in 
another.  While  I  have  more  faith  in  him  than 
I  have  in  myself,  I  will  press  him  in  the  direc- 
tion that  I  think  my  home  is.  I  look  at  the 
stars.  There  is  the  north  star  directly  in  the 
south,  with  the  unerring  great  dipper  pointing 
directly  to  it.  The  seven  stars  and  all  the  prom- 
inent celestial  land  marks  are  turned  entirely 
around.  I  feel  dizzy,  confused  and  foolish. 


UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED  219 

While  I  am  under  the  pressure  of  a  sense  of 
having  been  picked  up  bodily  and  transferred 
to  another  planet,  something  jumps  up  and 
goes  away  with  a  rushing  sound  just  in  front  of 
me.  It  is  a  deer  or  some  other  wild  animal. 
Just  here  my  horse  comes  to  a  dead  halt  and 
refuses  to  move.  I  see  something  in  front  which 
looks  like  a  great  mountain,  which  suddenly 
loses  its  shape  and  there  is  a  gulf.  I  dismount 
and  feel  around  in  the  darkness  to  see  why  my 
faithful  horse  has  stopped.  I  find  a  deep  gully 
in  front  of  me— a  "-wash  out"  with  sides  so 
steep  and  bottom  so  deep  that  it  is  impassable. 
I  stand  beside  my  horse  and  think  I  will  yell 
and  see  if  I  can  get  an  answer  from  some  one 
— from  some  other  person  who  is  lost,  perhaps. 
A  sound  from  any  human  being  would  be  wel- 
come now.  I  hear  a  scream  which  sounds 
something  like  a  boy  hallooing.  I  am  about  to 
answer,  when  I  am  saved  the  trouble,  for  there 
comes  another  yell  very  much  like  the  first  but 
from  a  different  direction.  I  know  now  that 
it  is  wolves. 

I  mount  again  and  give  my  dear  old  "Tom" 
his  head  and  say  "go  home  Tom."  The  faith- 
ful horse  turns  square  around  and  starts  off  at 
a  lively  pace  just  in  the  opposite  direction  from 
home,  I  think.  But  I  am  lost  and  I  must  now 
trust  to  the  instinct  of  my  horse.  We  move  on. 
The  old  horse  stretches  out  his  neck  and  groans 
and  snorts  and  quickens  his  pace.  He  goes  as 
if  he  knows  where  he  is  going.  We  soon  come 
into  a  road;  then  we  strike  timber  and  then 
come  to  the  creek.  This  looks  a  little  like  a 
creek  that  runs  close  to  my  home,  but  I  approach 
and  cross  it  from  the  wrong  side.  Coming  out 


220  UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED 

on  the  prairie  on  the  other  side  I  see  a  light 
which  indicates  a  human  habitation.  I  will 
turn  off  and  go  to  that  light  and  inquire  the  way. 
My  horse  turns  toward  the  light  without  sug- 
gestion or  motion  from  me.  I  ride  up  to  the 
fence  and  note  that  this  man  has  a  house,  barn 
and  surroundings  much  like  my  own.  In  fact 
I  would  think  they  were  mine,  if  it  were  not  for 
the  fact  that  the  house  and  barn  face  north 
and  mine  faces  south.  I  approach  it  from  the 
wrong  direction  and  I  know  it  is  not  my  house. 
I  "hello"  once  or  twice,  a  woman  opens  the 
door  and  asks  what  is  wanted. 

There  is  a  strange  familiarity  about  that 
voice.  I  have  heard  it  before  but  to  save  my 
life  I  can  not  tell  whose  it  is.  (When  you  are 
lost  you  do  not  even  recognize  the  voices  of 
your  nearest  friends).  I  ask  who  lives  there. 

The  voice  says:  "Get  down  and  come  in. 
I  should  think  you  would  be  too  tired  to  be 
playing  tricks  after  such  a  long  ride." 

The  voice  is  strangely  like  that  of  my  wife's 
and  yet  she  can  not  be  here  occupying  the  house 
of  some  one  else. 

I  begin  to  protest  when  she  says : 

"Oh,  get  down  and  come  in,  you  goose; 
don't  you  know  your  own  house?" 

I  alight,  hitch  "Tom"  and  go  to  the  door. 
Yes,  here  is  my  wife  and  here  are  my  babies! 
"There's  pa!"  they  all  say  in  one  breath,  and 
rush  for  the  door.  I  look  back  toward  the  gate 
and  find  that  the  earth  has  swung  around  just 
one  hundred  and  eighty  degrees  since  I  got  to 
the  door. 

The  faithful  animal  is  stabled  and  fed.  The 
coffee  pot  is  put  on  and  fresh  coffee  is  made; 


UPS  AND  DOWNS,  CONTINUED  221 

the  table  is  uncovered  and  my  waiting  supper 
is  exposed.  I  sit  down  and  eat  and  tell  about 
the  mirage  and  about  being  lost.  Then  a  book 
is  taken  from  the  "book  shelf,"  and  I  read 
aloud  to  my  dear  ones.  Little  eyelids  begin  to 
droop  and  little  heads  begin  to  nod. 

The  reading  is  finished  and  then  the  dear 
wife  gets  another  book — "the  Book  of  Books" 
and  carefully  opening  says: — 

"We  read  the  seventh  chapter  of  Mark  last 
night.  We  will  read  the  eighth  tonight." 

Then  tired  heads  are  laid  upon  waiting, 
downy  pillows  and  the  world  and  the  mirage 
and  all  are  shut  out  until  morning. 

When  I  have  been  lost  in  this  way  how  I 
have  pitied  my  city  brother  who  was  at  that 
moment,  perhaps,  riding  up  Fifth  Avenue  in  his 
coupe.  He  had  such  a  poor  chance  to  "come 
out  strong"  and  show  himself  a  man. 


CHAPTER  XII 

BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS 

WANTED  TO  BE  A  MILLIONAIRE — A  TRIP 
TO  COLORADO — THE  "  PHOENIX "  AND  THE 
TREE  OYSTER — NATURAL  PHENOMENA — "THE 
LIGHTNESS  OF  THE  ATMOSPHERE" — A  TEN- 
DERFOOT'S  FAILURE — THE  GRANDEUR  OF  THE 
MOUNTAINS — THE  GOOD  OF  DESIRING  TO  DO 

GOOD. 

)T  is  to  be  fairly 
^presumed  that 
^almost  every 
yhuman  being 
fthat  lives  has  at 
^sometime  in  his 
life  been  moved 
by  a  desire  to 
.do  good  to  those 
^beneath  him,  if 
'such  there  be. 
Indeed  it  is  hard 
to  conceive  of  a 
human  being  so  degraded  and  base  and  so  be- 
reft of  all  feeling  that  he  is  not  moved  at  some 
time  in  his  life  to  pity  the  miserable  condition 
of  others. 

Doctors  are  the  most  benevolent  people.  The 
doctors  in  the  United  States  do  more  charity 
than  all  the  other  people  combined.  This  seems 
like  a  strong  statement,  but  it  is  nevertheless 
true.  You  may  take  any  city,  town  or  village 
in  the  United  States,  and  make  as  accurate  a 
calculation  as  you  can  of  the  money  expended 


224  BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS 

for  the  benefit  cf  the  poor  by  all  the  people, 
banks,  corporations  and  charitable  institutions 
of  the  place,  and  I  will  get  a  fair  statement  of 
the  charitable  work  done  by  all  the  physicians 
of  that  town,  figured  by  a  reasonable  schedule 
of  fees,  and  I  will  show  you  that  the  doctors  do 
more  charity  than  all  the  balance  of  the  city. 
Some  doctors  are  no  more  charitable  than  other 
people,  but  most  of  them  are.  A  grocer  can 
refuse  food  on  credit,  a  clothier  may  refuse 
clothing  and  so  may  all  men  in  any  branch  of 
business,  but  such  are  the  pressing  needs  of 
the  poor  when  they  call  upon  us  that  we  must 
give  our  services.  ''Public  opinion"  (which  is 
another  name  for  the  concurrence  of  the  mob) 
may  overlook  the  action  of  the  grocer  and  the 
clothier  but  it  will  not  do  it  in  the  case  of  the 
doctor  who  refuses  his  services  when  the  poor 
body  is  racked  with  pain. 

I  started  out  to  say  that  doctors  are  some- 
times stricken  with  fits  of  benevolence.  I  had 
such  an  attack  once  myself.  It  was  during  the 
"carbonate  silver"  excitement  at  Leadville, 
Colorado,  in  1879.  I  had  practised  medicine 
about  fourteen  years  then  without  ever  having 
a  thought  of  growing  rich.  The  fact  is,  I  felt 
that,  in  the  presence  of  the  responsibilities  with 
which  I  was  daily  surrounded,  to  think  of  mak- 
ing money  was  reprehensible  in  the  very  highest 
degree,  if  not  ungentlemanly. 

I  do  not  know  why,  but  just  about  the  time 
of  this  silver  excitement  I  was  stricken  with 
a  desire  to  be  rich. 

"  Not  for  to  hide  it  in  a  hedge, 
Nor  for  a  train  attendant, 
But  for  the  glorious  privilege 
Of  being  independent." 


BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS  225 

I  desired  to  do  good  to  others,  and  I  confess 
to  the  weakness  of  desiring  to  be  rich  for  the 
sake  of  doing  good  to  myself  and  mine.  It  was 
the  first  impulse  of  the  kind,  so  far  as  it  referred 
to  self,  that  I  remember  to  have  ever  had,  and 
I  am  heartily  ashamed  of  it.  God  seems  to 
have  created  some  people  poor  in  order  that 
they  might  illustrate  the  higher  virtues  under 
difficulties,  and  the  writer  has  settled  down  to 
the  conviction  that  the  Lord  has  been  using 
him  all  this  time  for  a  wood  cut  and  is  content. 

However,  associated  with  a  desire  to  do  some- 
thing for  self  in  this  instance  was  the  higher 
and  nobler  one  to  help  the  helpless.  There 
was  a  little  orphan  school  for  girls  in  my  state 
which  I  had  a  great  and  burning  desire  to 
endow.  I  conceived  the  idea  of  going  to 
Colorado  and  making  a  million  dollars.  I 
wanted  just  one  million.  Now  some  people 
would  have  wanted  two  millions,  but  I  was 
never  a  hog  about  such  things.  I  made  up  my 
mind  and  made  a  vow  that  if  I  could  make  a 
million  I  would  give  two  hundred  thousand  of 
it  to  the  orphan  school. 

Such  was  the  excitement  in  regard  to  the 
news  just  at  that  time  that  men  actually  went 
out  there  expecting  to  shovel  up  the  money  in 
a  grain  scoop.  I  was  not  so  foolish  as  that. 
I  would  have  been  content  to  use  a  common 
spade. 

I  went. 

As  I  passed  up  the  Missouri  Pacific  R.  R. 
my  heart  was  filled  to  overflowing  with  two 
emotions: — with  sorrow  at  leaving  my  wife  and 
babies,  and  joy  at  the  thought  of  growing  rich 
and  being  able  to  do  good.  As  I  passed  through 


226  BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS 

Kansas  City  I  looked  over  toward  Camden 
Point,  where  the  little  orphan  school  was 
located,  and  chuckled  to  myself  to  think  what 
a  surprise  I  had  in  store  for  the  trustees  of  that 
school.  I  was  so  full  of  it  that  I  could  scarcely 
keep  my  designs  a  secret.  But  I  did.  I 
started  out  with  the  idea  that  my  left  hand 
should  not  know  what  my  right  hand  was 
doing,  and  I  determined  to  stick  to  it,  excepting 
that  I  intended  that  both  hands  should  indus- 
triously shovel  "silver  carbonates"  (with  a 
spade),  and  when  the  million  was  obtained  I 
would  come  home  and  make  the  orphans  glad, 
and  their  mothers  in  heaven  would  love  and 
bless  me. 

Our  train  moved  on  toward  the  great  plains. 
As  we  passed  through  western  Kansas  people 
continued  to  get  on  and  off  the  train  at  the 
stations  less  frequently  as  the  stations  were 
farther  apart  and  the  country  more  sparsely 
settled.  Finally  we  passed  the  last  station  and 
entered  upon  the  "plains,"  then  people  ceased 
to  get  on  and  off.  There  were  no  more  towns 
for  two  or  three  hundred  miles  and  all  the 
people  that  were  on  the  train  were  going  across 
the  plains.  Then  we  began  to  be  sociable 
and  to  talk,  to  ask  each  other  where  we  were 
from,  where  we  were  going  and  what  we  in- 
tended doing  when  we  got  there;  then  we 
would  introduce  pur  new  made  friends  to  other 
friends  and  offer  each  other  cigars  and  lunch. 
As  we  proceeded,  we  began  to  gather  in  groups 
and  tell  stories.  The  American  is  a  great 
story  teller.  He  loves  to  tell  his  best  story  and 
receive  applause  and  hear  a  new  one  from  his 
new  acquaintance. 


BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS  227 

In  my  corner  of  the  car  we  had  an  excellent 
group  of  men  with  one  exception.  This  was 
a  young  man  with  a  face  like  a  displaced 
interrogation  point  and  who  seemed  to  have 
failed  in  being  a  dude  in  about  one  point — 
the  clothes.  His  particular  forte  lay  in  his 
ability  to  spoil  a  story  that  some  one  else  was 
telling.  He  would  interrupt  you  right  in  the 
middle  of  the  story  or  just  before  the  "point" 
was  reached  and  call  in  question  your  pro- 
nunciation of  a  word,  your  statement  as  to  the 
population  of  a  city,  or  anything,  and  by  the 
time  you  got  through  arguing  with  him  about  it 
you  would  lose  the  thread  of  your  story,  every- 
body would  be  mad  and  the  story  spoiled. 
We  nicknamed  him  the  "Phoenix,"  because, 
after  being  demolished  and  almost  annihilated, 
he  would  rise  again.  We  handled  him  most 
unmercifully  several  times  but  it  did  not  dis- 
courage him.  He  was  sure  to  come  to  the 
front  just  at  a  time  when  he  could  do  the 
most  mischief.  The  fellow  seemed  to  have  been 
borne  mal  a  propos.  He  had  no  sense  of  pro- 
priety, whatever. 

Away  out  in  the  desert  about  the  Kansas 
and  Colorado  line  is  a  large  hotel  called  Lakin. 
This  is  the  half  way  house  in  the  desert,  and 
is  the  place  provided  by  the  railroad  company 
where  the  passengers  take  the  one  meal  after 
leaving  the  civilization  of  Kansas  and  before 
reaching  the  civilization  of  Colorado.  Just 
before  reaching  the  place  where  the  train 
stopped  for  supper,  the  "Phoenix"  ruined  one 
of  my  best  stories  by  his  unwarranted  inter- 
ference. I  was  not  mad,  for  I  never  permit 
myself  to  be  found  in  such  a  condition  as 


228  BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS 

that,  but  I  was  vexed  and  could  have  throttled 
him. 

I  laid  a  deep  scheme  for  revenge. 

As  we  were  leaving  the  train  I  called  four 
or  five  young  men  to  me  and  said: 

"I  have  a  plan  laid  for  the  final  demolition 
of  the  'Phoenix.'  We  must  watch  him  until 
he  is  seated  at  the  table,  and  then  all  sit  at 
the  same  table.  I  want  you  men  to  listen  to 
what  I  shall  say  and,  no  matter  how  absurd  it 
may  be,  agree  with  me.  Do  not  only  agree  with 
me  but  vehemently  insist  what  I  say  is  true." 

This  was  readily  agreed  to. 

We  went  in  and  found  the  "Phoenix"  sit- 
ting at  the  largest  table  with  an  old  lady  near 
him.  I  had  seen  this  old  lady  on  the  train. 
She  was  from  Ohio,  and  was  going  to  visit 
her  married  daughter  in  Colorado.  She  had 
the  regulation  number  of  boxes  and  bundles 
with  which  she  worked  incessantly  on  the 
car.  She  was  constantly  untying  or  tying 
something  and  taking  articles  out  of  one  bundle 
and  stuffing  them  into  another.  She  had  two 
upper  front  teeth  out  and  wore  the  inevitable 
bandana  around  her  head.  As  we  sat  down 
to  supper  I  remarked: 

"This  is  a  pretty  good  supper  for  an  out 
of  the  way  place  like  this.  Now  if  we  just 
had  some  oysters" — 

"Oysters!"  said  the  "Phcenix,"  "I  wouldn't 
give  a  penny  a  basket  for  oysters  out 
here." 

"Why  not?"  I  asked. 

"Because,"  said  he,  "they  are  not  fit  to 
eat  when  they  are  shipped  this  far.  They 
develop  a  nasty,  fishy  taste.  Now,  at  Wash- 


BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS  229 

ington  and  Baltimore,  where  I  live,  you  can 
get  them  right  fresh  out  of  the  bay" — 

" Hold  on,  young  man,  hold  on!"  I  exclaimed. 
"Now,  don't,  please." 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked,  looking  up 
in  surprise. 

"You  don't  pretend  to  tell  us  that  oysters 
come  out  of  the  water,  do  you?"  I  asked. 

"Of  course  I  do.  Where  should  they  come 
from?" 

"Now,  please  don't,  young  man,"  I  con- 
tinued, while  I  waved  him  away  with  my 
hand. 

"Now  don't  take  us  for  a  flock  of  innocent 
pigeons.  I  have  heard  some  pretty  tough 
ones,  but  this  is  too  much.  I  don't  know  how 
these  other  people  feel,  but  for  my  part  I  don't 
like  to  be  taken  for  a  fool." 

"Well,  if  they  don't  come  out  of  water, 
perhaps  you  can  tell  where  they  do  come  from," 
said  he,  winking  across  the  table  at  a  Detroit 
man. 

"Why,  I  thought  the  babies  knew  they 
grew  on  trees,"  I  answered. 

"Oh,  what  are  you  givhV  us?"  said  he. 

"Why,  of  course  they  grow  on  trees,  of 
course,  of  course,  why  certainly,"  said  every- 
body, except  the  old  lady,  who  kept  quiet,  but 
seemed  to  be  watching  me  out  of  the  corner 
of  her  eye. 

The  "Phcenix"  began  to  look  red  in  the 
face. 

"Young  man,"  I  began,  "it  is  pretty  rough 
on  any  man  to  be  taken  for  a  fool,  but  since 
you  have  seen  fit  to  play  this  whole  company 
for  fools  I  suppose  that  I  will  have  to  bear  my 


230  BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS 

part  of  it.  But  I  can't  let  your  bald-faced 
assertion  that  oysters  live  in  the  water  go 
without  contradiction.  Let  me  remind  you 
that  Marshall  Hall  demonstrated  by  a  series 
of  experiments  years  ago  that  warm  blooded 
animals  can  not  live  under  the  water  over  four 
minutes,  and  everybody  knows  that  the  oyster 
is  a  warm  blooded  animal.  But,  since  you 
persist  in  this  flagrant  assault  upon  well  known 
facts,  let  me  say  that  Pettis  County,  Missouri, 
where  I  live,  is  the  center  of  the  oyster  pro- 
ducing region  of  the  world;  I  know  more  than 
one  man  in  my  county  who  produces  more 
oysters  than  the  whole  state  of  Maryland  and 
the  District  of  Columbia  put  together. 

"We  have  Maj.  G.,  Capt.  S.,  and  Dr.  T., 
who  have  large  oyster  orchards.'" 

"Why  yes,  certainly,  certainly,  of  course, 
I  know  that,"  said  everybody  in  chorus  and 
repeated  it  so  fast  that  the  "Phoenix"  couldn't 
get  in  a  word. 

"I've  seen  all  those  brands  on  the  oyster 
barrels  up  in  Detroit,"  said  my  Michigan  man; 
and  then  everybody  chimed  in  and  asserted 
the  same  thing  as  to  his  town.  The  "Phoenix" 
was  confused  and  mad;  for  he  evidently  saw  a 
conspiracy  in  our  concert  of  action.  He 
turned  red,  spotted  and  green  by  turns.  When 
he  would  attempt  to  speak  the  chorus  would 
break  out  anew  and  drown  him  out.  He 
looked  around  with  a  maddened  and  defeated 
look  on  his  face,  seized  his  cup  of  coffee  and 
gulped  it  at  three  swallows  and  rising  knocked 
his  chair  over  and  went  to  the  door,  paid  his  "six 
bits,"  and  incontinently  bolted  for  the  waiting 
train.  We  all  laughed  and  enjoyed  his  dis- 


BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS 


231 


comfiture  and  the  old  lady  looked  puzzled. 
A  jolly  young  German,  who  was  my  com- 
panion, thinking  to  continue  the  fun,  said: 

"Doctor,  do  oysters  sing?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  I  said,  "they  sing  beautifully. 
I  don't  know  of  any  better  and  more  delight- 
ful way  in  which  to  spend  an  afternoon  than 
to  take  a  book  and  go  into  Maj.  G's  oyster  or- 
chard and  sit  down  under  the  oyster  trees  and 


"I  ALLERS  KNOWED  OYSTERS  CROWED  ON  TREES" 

hear  the  oysters  sing.  It  is  most  soothing 
and  delightful  when  the  old  oysters  sing  the 
young  ones  to  sleep  just  as  darkness  comes 
on." 

This  was  too  much  for  the  female  delegate 
from  Ohio.  She  broke  the  bonds  of  silence 
at  last. 

"Well,  now,  do  tell?  /  alters  knoived 
oysters  growed  on  frees  but  I  never  knowed  that 
they  could  sing  before." 


232  BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS 

This  was  too  much.  Everybody  roared  in 
chorus.  The  old  lady  knew  that  she  had 
started  the  laughter,  but  she  didn't  know 
exactly  how  she  had  done  it.  She  joined  in, 
however,  and  looked  from  one  to  another  to 
"catch  the  point,"  if  possible,  and  in  turning 
her  head,  she  spurted  her  bread  and  coffee 
through  the  aperture,  made  by  the  absent 
frontal  incisors,  all  over  the  young  man  from 
Detroit. 

But  the  "Phoenix"  never  rose  again.  He 
took  up  a  lonely  position  in  one  corner  of  the 
car  and  held  it  to  the  end. 

We  approached  Canon  City  on  foot  from 
the  railroad  station  at  daylight.  There  were 
the  mountains  looming  up  before  us  with  the 
cleft  of  the  Grand  Canon,  where  the  Arkansas 
river  comes  out  of  the  mountains,  plain  to  be 
seen. 

But  there  was  no  town;  we  couldn't  see 
a  single  house  although  there  was  a  level  valley 
and  not  an  object  intervening  between  us  and 
the  Grand  Canon.  We  went  a  little  further 
and  saw  one  house  which  seemed  to  be  trying 
to  hide  itself  under  the  mountain.  A  little 
further  on  another  house  stepped  out  from 
behind  this  one,  and  then  two  houses  stepped 
out  from  behind  these  two  and  four  from 
behind  these  four  and  so  forth.  In  a  few 
minutes  we  found  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  a 
flourishing  town  of  two  or  three  thousand 
inhabitants.  I  was  mystified.  I  couldn't 
understand  the  phenomenon  of  these  houses 
walking  out  from  behind  each  other  at  day- 
light, so  determined  to  probe  the  mystery  to 
the  bottom. 


BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS  233 

If  I  am  hunting  a  stray  horse  I  always 
inquire  of  a  boy  or  a  negro,  but  when  I  want 
natural  phenomena  explained  I  look  for  a 
"prominent  citizen."  This  I  did.  After  I  had 
stated  what  I  had  seen,  and  asked  him  the 
reason  for  it,  he  thought  a  moment,  put  on  a 
wise  look  and  said,  slowly: 

"Well,-I  dunno-o-o-oh.     It  is  generally-con- 
sidered-here-e-e-to-be-caused    by    the-ah-light- 
ness  of  the  atmosphere." 

At  the  point  where  we  stopped  the  first 
night  we  had  black  beef  and  blacker  sausage 
for  supper,  both  being  strongly  tinctured  with 
the  taste  of  the  sage  brush.  I  called  a  Hiber- 
nian who  waited  on  the  table  to  me  and  asked: 

"Pat,  what  makes  this  meat  so  black  and 
gives  it  this  peculiar  taste?" 

"I  dunno,  sur,"  said  Pat,  while  he  winked 
a  wink  that  took  one  side  of  his  head  to  do  it, 
"unless  it  is,  sur,  that  they  do  say  that  it  is 
owin'  to  the  loitness  of  the  atmosphere," 

We  traveled  up  the  Arkansas  river  two  days, 
there  being  fourteen  of  us  on  the  stage — 
sometimes  hanging  on  to  the  clouds  by  our 
eyebrows,  and  then  again  almost  in  the  "val- 
ley of  the  shadow  of  death."  We  had  one 
lady,  very  fat,  on  the  stage,  who  cried  all  the 
way  from  sheer  fright.  I  would  have  cried 
but  I  was  so  badly  scared  that  I  was  speechless 
and  cryless.  My  heart  was  in  my  throat  and 
prevented  articulation.  An  Irishman,  who  was 
one  of  the  passengers,  declared, 

"The  next  time  I  ride  over  these  moun- 
tains I'll  walk." 

We  came  to  a  place  where  only  a  few  days 
before  two  horses  and  a  wagon  had  gone  over 


234 


BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS 


a  precipice  several  hundred  feet.  We  were 
looking  down  into  this  chasm  and  trying  to 
see  the  wrecked  wagon  and  horses  when  the 
driver  stopped  and  said: 

"Here,  I  guess  you  folks  had  better  get  out 
here." 

The  fat  woman  was  already  crying,  and 
with  this  she  began  to  yell  in  dead  earnest. 
She  sat  on  the  back  seat  and  I  on  the  middle 


I  WENT  DOWN  IN  THE  MUD  AND  SHE  ON  TOP  OF  ME 

one.  I  had  been  in  the  habit  of  getting  out 
first  at  stations  and  then  helping  her.  I  got 
out  here  as  soon  as  I  could,  for  I  could  tell 
by  her  shouts  that  she  was  close  upon  me. 
Just  as  I  turned  around  to  receive  her  she 
jumped  right  onto  my  stomach  with  her  whole 
weight — about  one  hundred  and  seventy  pounds. 
I  went  down  in  the  mud  and  she  on  top  of  me, 
of  course.  I  do  not  know  what  I  would  have 


BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS  235 

done  if  there  hadn't  been  somebody  there  to 
take  her  off,  for  she  was  so  badly  scared  that 
she  was  perfectly  helpless  and  she  had  rendered 
me  almost  as  helpless  as  herself. 

Another  gentleman  and  I  got  under  her 
arms  and  almost  literally  carried  her  to  the 
station — a  half  mile  distant — where  the  stage 
had  stopped.  I  was  almost  paralyzed  with 
the  effort  to  carry  her  and  had  the  backache 
all  the  balance  of  the  day. 

When  we  arrived  at  Leadville  it  was  ten 
o'clock  at  night.  A  man  came  and  opened 
the  stage  door  and  looked  in  by  the  light  of  a 
lantern.  She  made  one  desperate  spring, 
yelled  "Oh,  John,"  and  fell  on  his  neck.  He 
staggered  under  her  ponderous  weight  and 
she  swung  on.  They  went  staggering  and 
whirling  off  amongst  the  bushes  and  I  have  never 
seen  her  since.  If  he  gets  her  out  of  Lead- 
ville I  feel  sure  that  he  will  have  to  blindfold 
her  and  back  her  down  the  mountains  as  stock 
men  load  unruly  horses  on  to  railroad  cars. 

There  was  house  room  enough  in  and 
around  Leadville  to  accommodate  five  thou- 
sand people  and  there  were  twenty  thousand 
to  be  accommodated.  Such  a  crowding  mass 
of  humanity  I  never  saw  before  and  hope  never 
to  see  again.  The  ground  was  covered  with 
snow,  the  weather  was  too  cold  for  mining 
except  where  the  mines  were  already  in  opera- 
tion, and  nearly  everybody  spent  their  time 
in  walking  around  the  streets,  herding  up  in 
the  gambling  rooms  (which  were  open  on  the 
streets  and  furnished  the  only  free  accom- 
modation in  town),  or  cutting  logs  and  build- 
ing huts  in  preparation  for  the  spring  mining. 


236  BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS 

As  I  couldn't  go  to  spading  up  my  million 
until  the  snow  went  off  I  decided  to  practice 
my  profession  and  make  a  few  thousand  just 
to  pay  expenses.  I  put  on  my  best  clothes 
(and  they  were  the  best  that  I  saw  in  Colorado), 
put  up  at  the  best  hotel  and  hung  up  my  shingle. 
I  stayed  there  a  month  and  never  had  a  call. 

I  don't  know  why — couldn't  explain  it  then, 
and  can  not  now  unless  it  was  because  I  was  so 
well  dressed  that  people  thought  I  was  proud. 
Men  came  to  me  every  day  with  specimens  of 
ore  and  desired  to  sell  me  rich  mines,  but  no 
one  came  to  have  his  wounds  healed.  All 
seemed  to  think  that  I  was  a  millionaire  who 
had  come  there  to  buy  up  all  of  the  good  mines 
and  who  was  disguising  his  real  object  under 
the  pretense  of  practicing  medicine.  There 
was  no  use  to  protest.  It  did  no  good.  It 
had  gone  forth  that  I  was  a  Boston  millionaire 
(I  had  never  seen  Boston)  who  represented  a 
syndicate  that  controlled  millions.  I  was  treated 
with  great  deference,  and  the  ore  continued  to 
pour  in  on  me  day  by  day;  but  no  one  wanted 
me  as  a  doctor. 

I  would  look  at  the  specimens  and  the  assays 
and  ask  the  most  innocent  questions  about 
them — for  I  didn't  know  "carbonate"  from 
"horn  silver" — and  they  would  look  at  each 
other  and  wink  as  much  as  to  say,  "ain't  he 
a  sly  old  coon  ?  But  he  can't  fool  us. " 

I  tired  of  this  kind  of  thing  at  last  and  decided 
to  come  home.  When  I  got  everything  on  the 
stage  and  myself  into  it  I  called  the  hotel  clerk 
to  bid  him  goodbye,  and  said  to  him: 

"Charlie,  answer  me  a  question;  I've  been 
here  a  month  trying  to  get  something  to  do 


BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS  237 

in  my  profession.  I  am  the  best  dressed  man 
in  Colorado.  I  don't  think  that  I  am  either 
an  ignorant,  or  a  bad  looking  man.  I've  seen 
lop-eared,  ignorant,  'Jim  Crow'  doctors  going 
around  here  as  busy  as  bees.  Now  tell  me; 
what  is  it  that  drove  people  from  me  as  a  phy- 
sician? Why  is  it  that  I  couldn't  get  anything 
to  do?" 

Charlie  put  his  hand  up  to  the  side  of  his 
mouth,  looked  mysterious  and  leaned  forward 
and  whispered  in  my  ear: 

"I  don't  know,  doctor,  unless  it  is  on  account 
of  the  lightness  of  the  atmosphere. " 

And  so  I  came  home. 

But  I  saw  the  grand  old  mountains  as  I 
had  always  longed  to  see  them.  The  grand, 
gloomy  and  silent  mountains  that  God  has 
builded  as  witnesses  of  the  great  throes  and 
upheavals  through  which  this  earth  has  passed 
in  days  gone  by.  I  looked  upon  these  grand 
old  mountains  "on  whose  summits  the  clouds 
gather  of  their  own  accord  even  in  the  brightest 
day.  There  I  saw  the  great  spirit  of  the  storm, 
after  noontide,  go  and  take  his  nap  in  his  pa- 
valion  of  darkness  and  of  clouds.  I  saw  him 
aroused  at  midnight  as  a  giant  refreshed  by 
slumber,  and  cover  the  heavens  with  darkness 
and  gloom;  I  saw  him  awake  the  tempest,  let 
loose  the  red  lightning  that  ran  along  the 
mountain  tops  for  a  thousand  miles  swifter 
than  an  eagle's  flight  in  the  heavens.  Then  I 
saw  them  stand  up  and  dance  like  angels  of 
light  in  the  clouds  to  the  music  of  that  grand 
organ  of  nature,  whose  keys  seemed  to  have  been 
touched  by  the  fingers  of  Divinity  in  the  hall 
of  eternity  that  responded  in  notes  of  thunder 


238  BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS 

that  resounded  through  the  universe.  Then  I 
saw  the  darkness  drift  away  beyond  the  horizon 
and  the  morn  get  up  from  her  saffron  bed  like 
a  queen,  put  on  her  robes  of  light,  come  forth 
from  her  palace  in  the  sun  and  stand  tiptoe 
on  the  misty  mountain  top,  and  night  fled  before 
her  glorious  face  to  his  bed  chamber  at  the 
pole." 

I  stood  at  the  mouth  of  a  great  canon  at 
evening,  where  the  water  had,  by  the  attrition 


I  STOOD  AT  THE  MOUTH  OF  A  GREAT  CANON 
AT  EVENING 

of  the  ages,  worn  its  way  through  hundreds  of 
feet  of  solid  granite.  The  beautiful  river,  whose 
waters  came  from  the  melted  snow  on  the 
mountain  tops,  came  leaping  and  dashing  down 
through  the  great  canon,  sprang  into  the  valley 
and  went  singing  on  to  the  sea.  The  valley 
below  was  covered  with  cedars,  arranged  as 
artistically  as  if  they  had  been  planted  by  the 


BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS  239 

hand  of  man,  and  the  mountain  sides  were 
covered  with  stately  pine.  And  far  away  up 
and  beyond  all  I  could  see  the  lofty,  snow- 
capped summits  that  in  their  towering  grandeur 
seemed  to  pierce  the  upper  skies.  I  stood  here 
at  sunset  when  it  was  already  dark  in  the  valley, 
but  still  light  upon  the  mountain  tops.  The 
sun  was  setting  and  I  saw  him  pierce  the  mists 
that  ever  hung  about  the  mountain's  brow  with 
his  broad  lances  of  light.  I  stood  in  the  dark- 
ness and  looked  into  the  light;  I  stood  in  the 
night  and  I  looked  into  the  day. 

I  could  see  with  a  simple  glance  of  the  eye, 

To  the  place  where  the  day  bade  the  night  good-bye. 

Appalled  and  awe  stricken  by  the  beautiful 
picture  I  raised  my  eyes  that  I  might  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  hand  that  had  wrought  the 
wonderful  scene,  and  there,  high  up  on  the 
granite  rocks,  I  beheld  traced  in  letters  of 
living  light  the  beautiful  legendary  inscription 
— "Buy  Frazer's  Axle  Grease." 

And  so  I  did  come  home. 

"Was  your  trip  entirely  devoid  of  good?" 
you  ask. 

Oh,  no.  Nothing  is  devoid  of  good  which 
has  good  intentions  behind  it.  I  went  out  all 
oppressed  and  sway-backed  with  a  big  desire 
to  do  good  to  others,  and  as  I  came  home  I 
looked  over  toward  the  little  orphan  school  and 
felt  down  in  my  pocket  and  found  about  three 
dollars. 

I  didn't  write  the  check. 

But  it  did  me  good.  The  next  best  thing  to 
doing  a  good  deed  is  to  want  to  do  it.  No 
man  ever  felt  a  great,  honest  desire,  deep  down 
in  his  heart,  to  do  something  for  the  better- 


240  BENEVOLENT  DESIGNS 

ment  of  others  who  didn't  grow  and  broaden 
and  become  a  better  man. 

"A  noble  deed  is  a  step  toward  God." 
And  a  noble  desire  is  very  nearly  akin  to  a 
noble  deed.  It  is  desires  like  this,  and  deeds 
when  we  can  do  them,  that  constantly  develop 
us  in  life  and  lift  us  up  and  make  us  feel  our 
kinship  with  Him  who  so  loved  the  world  that 
he  gave  his  life  for  it. 

"Heaven  is  not  gained  at  a  single  bound, 
But  we  build  the  ladder  by  which  we  rise 
From  the  lowly  earth  to  the  vaulted  skies, 
And  we  mount  to  their  summits  round  by  round." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE  AND 
CONFESSIONS 


GENERAL  CONSIDERATIONS — "CAUSE  OF  BILL 
SIMPSON  GOING  TO  H — L" — THE  "  COLONEL" 
AND  THE  METEORIC  SHOWER — "  UNCLE  MIKE" 
AND  THE  STORY  OF  THE  STONING  OF  STEPHEN. 

HE  doctor  sees 
men  and  women 
at  their  weak- 
est and  their 
worst.  Some 
people  come  to 
their  sick  beds, 
and,  perhaps, 
to  their  death 
beds  with  all 
the  arrogance, 
bravado  and 
hauteur  of  their  every  day  life.  But  not  many. 
The  sickness  that  threatens  life  and  that  be- 
tokens approaching  dissolution  causes  most  of 
them  to  unbend. 

The  man  who  has  the  most  strenuously 
denied  the  authenticity  of  the  Scripture  when 
well,  and  who  would  walk  any  distance  and 
sit  up  unusual  hours  in  order  to  argue  with  a 
preacher,  and  if  possible,  overthrow  his  faith 
and  convert  him  to  his  agnostic  theories,  will, 
after  being  sick  a  day  or  two,  cease  to  argue, 


242  DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE 

and  as  the  case  advances,  quit  swearing.  As 
the  case  grows  more  serious  his  friends  suggest 
that  he  ought  to  begin  to  prepare  for  the  other 
world,  but  add  that  they  suppose  he  don't  care 
as  he  has  "always  talked  against  religion." 
He  turns  his  head  to  the  wall  and  says  he  "was 
just  talking  to  hear  himself  talk."  If  he 
makes  this  declaration,  my  word  for  it,  within 
twenty-four  hours  he  will  have  either  priest  or 
preacher,  and  will  either  confess  or  have  prayers. 

I  have  seen  many  of  these  cases  of  confes- 
sion and  attempts  at  reformation  by  parties 
supposed  to  be  on  their  death  beds.  The  doctor 
is  frequently  consulted  as  to  the  advisability  of 
sending  for  a  minister.  It  is  a  ticklish  point 
for  the  doctor.  His  patient  may  be  in  a  con- 
dition which  makes  him  fearful  that  the  excite- 
ment attendant  upon  religious  exercises,  ques- 
tions, answers  and  confession  may  turn  the 
scale  against  him.  On  .the  other  hand  if  he 
refuses  to  permit  a  minister  to  enter  and  the 
patient  becomes  delirious  or  unconscious  and 
dies  without  regaining  consciousness  the  doctor 
will  be  blamed  for  the  fact  that  the  deceased 
must  sutler  the  pangs  of  torment  throughout 
the  unending  ages. 

That  is  a  pretty  strong  accusation  for  a 
poor,  harassed  country  doctor  to  carry  about 
with  him.  As  if  he  was  the  author  of  all  the 
sins  of  the  deceased. 

An  ignorant  fellow,  who  had  been  abusing 
another  doctor  to  me  once,  wound  up  his 
inventory  of  the  doctor's  sins  and  short-com- 
ings with  the  statement: 

"He's  the  cause  of  Bill  Simpson  goin'  to 
hell,  too." 


DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE  243 

"The  doctor  the  cause  of  such  a  thing!" 
I  exclaimed.  "How  could  he  be?" 

"Why  he  wouldn't  let  him  have  any  preacher. 
They  wanted  to  have  readin'  and  singin'  and 
prayin'  before  Bill  got  outen  his  head,  and  the 
old  blatherskite  kicked  agin'  it  and  said  it 
wouldn't  do  to  excite  him.  Fust  thing  they 
knowed  Bill  was  as  wild  as  a  Texas  boss  and 
couldn't  tell  singin'  from  thunder,  and  he 
never  knowed  nothin'  after  that." 

Here  was  a  wicked  and  ignorant  fellow  who 
really  had  that  kind  of  faith  in  the  efficacy  of 
"readin'  and  singin'  and  prayin'"  that  caused 
him  to  expect  another  man,  as  wicked  and 
ignorant  as  himself,  to  be  read  and  sung  right 
into  the  gates  of  Paradise.  Many  people,  less 
ignorant  and  not  wicked  at  all  feel,  if  they  do 
not  believe,  the  same  thing. 

The  doctor  must  decide  all  such  questions 
for  what  he  believes  to  be  the  best  interest  of 
the  sick  one.  The  doctor  may  be  himself  an 
infidel.  I  have  known  not  a  few  physicians 
who  tried  to  preach  their  infidelity  at  the  bed- 
side of  the  sick.  This  is  a  very  wrong  and  a 
very  foolish  thing  to  do.  It  is  nearly  as  bad 
to  try  to  change  the  sick  one's  faith,  and  win 
him  over  to  some  new,  novel  or  different  faith. 
The  doctor  has  to  do  with  the  body  and 
not  the  soul,  and  it  is  best  for  him  to  leave 
the  inculcation  of  religious  faith  and  re- 
ligious ideas  to  those  who  are  trained  for  the 
business. 

But  he  must  decide  as  to  the  admission  of 
a  minister.  I  confess  that  it  is  sometimes  a 
hard  problem  to  solve.  I  have  generally  kept 
myself  on  the  safe  side  by  permitting  what  was 


244  DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE 

asked,  but  limiting  the  number  to  be  admitted 
and  warning  against  all  excitement. 

There  are  some  people  who  mistake  bodily 
exercises  for  religious  exercises,  and  who  call 
upon  their  God  as  if  he  were  deaf  or  far  away. 
With  such  the  doctor  must  be  very  exact  in  his 
limitations.  I  am  sure  that  I  have  had  one  or 
two  people  killed  by  this  kind  of  thing. 

But  does  it  do  any  good  ? 

Maybe  so;  maybe  not.  I  have  known  a 
few  persons  who  made  professions  of  repent- 
ance and  reformation  when  sick,  who  kept  the 
faith  after  recovery.  But  the  great  majority 
return  "as  a  dog  to  his  vomit,  and  a  sow  that 
has  been  washed  to  her  wallowing  in  the  mire. " 

The  case  of  the  quarrelsome  old  lady  who 
thought  she  was  about  to  die  very  fairly  illus- 
trates this  class  of  cases.  She  called  in  all  of 
her  neighbors  with  whom  she  had  quarrelled 
and  forgave  them  and  was  forgiven.  As  they 
departed  she  called  out: 

"Now  neighbors,  remember,  if  I  die  this 
stands  good;  but  if  I  get  well  it  don't." 

So  it  is  with  these  people.  They  intend  for 
their  professions  to  count  if  they  die,  but  .to 
be  void  if  they  recover. 

If  it  be  worth  while  for  a  man  to  make 
preparation  for  another  world — and  if  this  were 
a  work  on  theology  I  should  say  that  it  is — 
he  had  better  make  that  preparation  when  in 
good  health  and  in  his  cool,  sober  senses. 
The  death  bed,  with  the  pulse  at  one  hundred 
and  fifty  and  the  brain  on  fire,  is  a  poor  place 
to  consider  questions  of  such  tremendous  mo- 
ment. It  is  like  a  man  trying  to  execute  his 
last  will  and  testament  while  falling  overboard 


DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE  245 

from  a  ship — it  is  apt  to  be  hurriedly,  and 
probably,  bunglingly  done. 

I  have  heard  and  known  of  some  very  ridi- 
culous things  in  connec.ion  with  the  actions  of 
wicked  people  who  expected  soon  to  "shuffle 
off  this  mortal  coil." 

There  have  been  many  stories  written  about 
the  conduct  of  people  on  the  night  that  the 
"stars  fell"  in  1833.  This  one  has  never  been 
in  print  that  I  know  of: 

There  was  an  old  Kentuckian  who  was  un- 
educated and  rough,  but  naturally  a  very 
shrewd  man.  He  was  a  horse  trader  and  a 
hog  drover  and  was  a  mean  and  stingy  money 
getter.  The  one  redeeming  trait  in  his  close 
fistedness  was  that  he  gambled.  He  exhibited 
here  enough  liberality  to  risk  his  money,  and 
to  give  others  a  chance  to  win  it  if  they  could. 
But  he  was  hoggish  in  his  nature,  was  brutal 
and  overbearing  and  generally  quit  a  winner. 
He  played  cards  because  he  loved  to  win  money, 
and  when  he  won  it  he  kept  it.  The  gambling 
fraternity,  who,  whatever  else  may  be  said  of 
them,  are  liberal,  almost  to  a  man,  both  feared 
and  hated  him.  They  hated  him  for  his  brutal- 
ity, and  his  meanness  generally,  and  they  feared 
him  because  he  was  rich,  and  it  is  in  gambling 
as  it  is  in  almost  all  other  lines  of  business — 
the  fellow  with  the  big  pile  generally  has  his 
opponent  at  a  disadvantage. 

On  the  night  of  the  great  meteoric  shower 
this  old  rascal  (whom  I  shall  call  Colonel  John) 
was  playing  with  two  young  men.  They  were 
playing  poker  "without  limit,"  and  while  their 
fortunes  varied  as  the  night  wore  apace,  the 
Colonel  had  "hogged"  most  of  the  big  bets. 


246  DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE 

He  would  put  up  so  much  money  that  the  other 
fellows  were  afraid  to  "call,"  and  he  raked  it 
in  without  a  "show  down."  In  addition  to 
this  he  had  been  caught  cheating  and  nothing 
but  his  superior  strength,  his  brute  courage  and 
the  general  awe  which  his  reputation  inspired 
kept  him  from  being  mercilessly  handled. 

He  had  just  raked  in  the  last  dollar  that  the 
other  two  fellows  possessed  when  some  one 
opened  the  window  blinds  and  noticed  an  un- 
usual light  without.  The  meteoric  shower  had 
probably  been  in  operation  for  some  time,  but  the 
blinds  had  been  closed  and  they  had  not  seen  it. 

The  attention  of  all  was  now  arrested  by 
this  celestial  phenomenon.  The  Colonel  held 
his  paw  on  his  pile  of  money  and  leaned  over 
and  strained  his  eyes  in  watching  the  unusual 
sight.  He  was  ignorant  of  astronomy,  and, 
of  course,  this  could  mean  nothing  else  to  him 
than  some  terrible  visitation  of  the  Lord. 

One  of  the  other  gamblers  was  an  educated 
fellow  and  had  some  idea  of  what  the  nature 
of  the  shower  was  and  was  not  much  alarmed. 
But  he  thought  he  would  take  advantage  of  the 
occasion  to  make  the  Colonel  disgorge  his  ill- 
gotten  gains. 

"Colonel,"  said  he,  "I  believe  the  world  is 
coming  to  an  end." 

"Yes,  Jimmie,"  said  the  Colonel,  "I  reckon 
it  is,  I  reckon  it  is.  It  looks  powerful  like  it, 
don't  it. 

"Yes,  the  world  is  coming  to  an  end  and  you 
have  got  to  face  the  Lord  in  Judgment  with 
this  money,  which  you  have  just  as  good  as 
stolen,  in  your  hands.  What  are  you  going  to 
do  about  it." 


DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE  247 

"I-I-I  dunno,  Jimmie,  I-I  dunno.  What  do 
you  think  I  ought  to  do?" 

"Why,  you  ought  to  give  it  up.     There  can 
.  be  no  repentance  and  no  forgiveness  in  a  case 
like  this  without  restitution.     Don't  you  think 
you  ought  to  give  it  up?" 

"Well- well-well,  Jimmie,  I  expect  I  ought 
— I  expect  I  ought.  It's  too  bad,  ain't  it? 
Too  bad-bad-bad-bad!" 

"Well,  if  you  think  you  ought  to  give  it  up, 
why  don't  you  do  it?  You  may  be  snatched 
before  the  Judgment  bar  at  any  moment,  Colonel ; 
give  me  back  that  money." 

The  Colonel  leaned  forward  a  little  more 
and  looked  out  at  the  falling  meteors,  then 
pushing  the  money  along  the  table  a  few  inches 
repeated  in  a  faltering  voice: 

"Yes,  Jimmie,  I  reckon  I'd  better  give  it 
up.  It  does  look  as  if  the  world  was  comin' 
to  a  eend,  and  I  reckon  you'd  better  take  it. 
It's  too  bad-too  bad-bad-bad-bad." 

"Colonel,  you  sit  there  and  hold  on  to  that 
money  like  an  old  miserly  hog.  Why  don't 
you  hand  it  here  if  you  expect  forgiveness? 
You  know  you  stole  that  money  and  that  you 
are  no  better  than  a  robber.  You  have  taken 
the  money  that  should  buy  bread  for  my  wife 
and  children.  You  cheated  and  got  it  unfairly. 
The  Lord  is  preparing  for  the  Judgment 
now.  In  a  few  minutes  the  heavens  will  be 
rolled  together  like  a  scroll  and  then  it  may 
be  too  late.  Give  me  that  money." 

The  Colonel  leaned  forward  and  took  another 
look,  his  eyes  protruding  more  and  his  face 
growing  still  more  pale,  but  he  held  his  hand 
on  the  money. 


248  DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE 

"Yes,  Jimmie,  I-I-I*  reckon  you'd  better 
take  it.  I  know  I've  been  bad.  I  know  I 
have;  but  I  don't  want  to  meet  the  Lord  with 
this  money,  Jimmie.  I  reckon  I'd  better 
give  it  up." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  do  it  then?  Don't 
you  see  that  the  whole  universe  is  being  con- 
sumed by  fire  and  that  everything  is  being 
dissolved  by  fervent  heat?  Colonel,  don't  go 
before  the  Great  Judge  with  this  stain  upon 
your  soul.  Give  me  that  money." 

And  thus  they  had  it. 

At  each  time  that  the  Colonel  would  confess 
that  he  ought  to  give  it  up  he  would  shove  it 
over  toward  Jimmie  a  little  farther,  but  still 
kept  his  hand  upon  it< 

Jimmie  took  hold  of  the  Colonel's  hand 
and  tried  to  get  the  money  but  the  Colonel 
clutched  it  nervously  and  held  on. 

Finally,  Jim  made  a  last  appeal.  He 
described  the  Judgment  to  the  Colonel  and 
told  him  that  if  he  did  not  give  the  money  up 
he  would  be  sent  to  hell  and  consigned  to 
apartments  where  he  would  be  burned  with 
fire,  but  never  consumed. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "Colonel,  I  don't  want 
you  to  go  to  hell,  and  I  know  you  don't 
want  to  go  there.  Will  you  give  me  that 
money  and  save  your  blackened  soul  from 
perdition." 

The  Colonel  was  still  watching  the  sky 
with  protruding  eyes  and  ashen  face. 

"Well,  yes,  Jimmie,  I  guess  I'd  better  give 
it  up.  I  don't  want  to  go  before  the  Lord  in 
this  fix.  I  guess  you'd  better  take  it.  I  know 
I  as  good  as  stole  it  and  I'm  afraid  the  Lord 


DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE  249 

won't   forgive   me.     I-I-I   guess   you'd    better 
take  it." 

"Well,  then,  why  don't  you  let  me  take 
it?"  said  Jimmie  as  he  clutched  the  Colonel's 
hand. 


"M-I  THINK  IT'S  A  CLARIN'  UP  A  LITTLE  BIT" 

Just  then  there  was  a  very  perceptible 
diminution  in  the  number  of  meteors  that 
were  falling. 

The  Colonel  saw  this,  and  leaning  forward 
a  little  farther  toward  the  window,  his  face 
brightened  as  he  drew  the  money  toward  him- 
self and  exclaimed  with  great  excitement: 


250  DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE 

"  Hold  on,  Jimmie,  hold  on  a  minit!  I-I-I- 
think  it's-a-clarin'  up  a  little  bit." 

And  so  he  kept  the  money. 

I  have  seen  a  great  many  who  thought 
they  were  near  to  the  Judgment  and  who  pro- 
fessed great  repentance  and  reformation,  but 
when  they  saw  "it  clarin'  up  a  little,"  they 
changed  their  minds. 

The  case  of  the  Colonel  illustrates  the 
"ruling  passion  strong  in  death,"  but  I  have 
one  which  occurred  in  my  own  practice  illus- 
trating the  same  point,  but  where  the  ruling 
passion  was  not  the  love  of  money. 

There  was  an  old  man  in  my  county  who 
had  come  there  in  a  very  early  day — so  early 
in  fact  that  there  were  few  whites  in  that  region 
except  the  Presbyterian  Missionaries  to  the 
Osage  Indians  at  the  old  Harmony  Mission 
on  the  Maries  des  Cygnes  river. 

His  name  was  Mike. 

At  least  Mike  was  his  first  name  and  that 
will  do.  Mike  came  from  old  Tennessee  in 
his  young  married  life  and  settled  down  here 
in  the  wilds  of  western  Missouri  with  little 
except  his  strong  arm  and  his  determined 
courage  with  which  to  hew  out  his  fortune. 

He  had  a  long  back,  short  legs,  long,  mus- 
cular arms  and  a  head  as  round  as  a  cocoa- 
nut. 

His  weakness  was  fighting.  Mike  just  dearly 
loved  to  contest  disputed  points  with  his  fellow 
men  with  his  two  knotty  fists.  He  was  built 
for  fighting  and  was  a  hard  citizen  to  handle. 
If  you  happened  to  be  in  the  county  seat  on  a 
public  day  and  would  keep  your  eyes  open 
along  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  you 


DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE  251 

would  see  men  coming  from  all  directions 
toward  a  certain  point.  Hurrying  to  this 
point  you  would  see  great  clouds  of  dust  ris- 
ing so  thick  that  you  could  see  nothing  but 
legs  and  arms  whirling  promiscuously  in  the 
air.  After  a  while  you  would  cease  to  see  the 
legs  and  then  if  you  would  listen  you  could 
hear  a  sound  like  a  dog  chewing  gristle. 

Then  the  constable  and  a  hastily  sum- 
moned posse  would  rush  into  this  mountain 
of  dust  and  after  a  little  while  one  man  would 
come  forth  leading  Mike  and  four  others  would 
come  out  carrying  the  other  fellow.  Mike 
would  go  and  wash  his  bleeding  nose  or  skinned 
cheek  and  then  would  be  ready  to  "argue  the 
question"  in  the  same  way  with  some  one 
else.  If  they  didn't  "double  teams"  on  him 
(and  that  was  rare  in  those  days)  he  was  almost 
sure  to  be  a  victor. 

Sometimes  he  would  meet  with  a  big  fellow 
who  would  go  at  him  with  a  rush  and  get  him 
down  and  maul  his  cocoanut  head  into  the  dust 
or  mud  until  he  wore  himself  out  and  lost  his 
wind,  when  Mike  would  get  a  thumb  in  his 
mouth,  twist  out,  get  on  top  and  in  a  very  few 
seconds  after  he  began  to  "work  his  machine" 
you  would  hear  the  muffled  "Nuff"  come 
from  his  opponent. 

Mike  never  said  "Nuff." 

I  do  not  think  that  he  ever  quoted  or  ever 
heard  that  "The  Old  Guard  dies  but  never 
surrenders,"  for  he  was  not  a  man  who  crys- 
tallized his  thoughts  and  principles  into  short 
sentences  of  this  kind;  but  he  lived  and  fought 
on  that  principle.  You  might  have  pounded 
the  life  out  of  him  but  he  would'nt  say  "Nuff." 


252  DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE 

After  one  of  Mike's  fights  he  would  go  home 
and  sober  off  (I  forgot  to  say  that  Mike  drank) 
and  stick  some  pickings  from  an  old  fur  hat  on 
his  wounds  and  go  about  his  farm  as  quietly 
as  a  deacon.  He  was  a  good,  quiet  neighbor 
and  was  generous  to  a  fault.  His  herds  grew 
on  the  unlimited  prairies  and  Mike  prospered. 
He  got  to  be  one  of  the  largest  and  best  farmers 
in  the  county.  After  one  of  his  fights  he  would 
not  go  to  town  for  two  or  three  months;  but 
when  he  did  go  he  was  almost  sure  to  get  drunk 
and  have  two  or  three  fights.  This  continued 
until  Mike  began  to  grow  old,  and,  like  all 
great  fighters,  he  had  to  yield  the  belt  to  some 
one  else.  He  gave  up  the  championship 
grudgingly  but  he  had  to  do  it.  He  got  used 
up  badly  once  or  twice  by  stronger  men  and 
so,  concluding  that  "discretion  is  the  better 
part  of  valor,"  Mike  quit  fighting.  But  he 
would  come  to  town  and  get  drunk  and  quarrel 
and  incite  others  to  fight;  for  Mike  was  not 
hoggish — if  he  couldn't  do  a  thing  himself  he 
liked  to  see  others  do  it. 

After  I  had  been  practising  in  this  county 
several  years  Mike  came  to  town  on  a  public 
day  in  a  two  horse  wagon  and  got  drunk,  as 
was  his  custom.  He  started  home  after  dark, 
and,  it  is  probable  that  he  went  to  sleep  on  the 
spring  seat  of  his  wagon. 

One  of  the  front  wheels  ran  into  a  rut  and 
he  tumbled  over  the  wheel  to  the  ground. 
His  arm  fell  across  the  rut  and  the  wagon  wheels 
on  that  side  ran  over  it  and  fractured  it  between 
the  elbow  and  the  shoulder.  The  horses  took 
the  wagon  and  went  on  home.  Mike  was 
too  drunk  and  too  much  hurt  to  travel,  so  he 


DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE  253 

lay  upon  the  ground  and  slept  and  shivered 
through  a  frosty  September  night. 

His  family  found  the  team  at  the  front 
gate  the  next  morning  and  at  once  came  back 
in  search  of  Mike.  A  friend  of  mine  was 
sent  for  and  went  out  and  set  the  fracture. 
Within  a  day  or  two  Mike  developed  a  pneumonia 
and  it  was  not  many  days  until  he  seemed  to  be  on 
the  verge  of  death.  A  consultation  was  asked 
for  and  I  was  called  in.  I  found  the  old 
warrior  in  great  peril  His  right  lung  was 
consolidated,  his  respiration  bad,  his  pulse 
irregular  and  faltering  and  h^c  temperature  high. 

Mike  was  sixty-five  years  old  and  the  prog- 
nosis was  unfavorable.  My  friend  asked  me 
to  give  my  opinion,  which  was  also  his  own, 
to  the  wife  and  mother  of  the  household. 

She  was  a  good,  kindly  woman,  a  warm 
hearted  Methodist  and  a  splendid  wife,  mother 
and  neighbor. 

She  had  lived  with  this  great  fighting  man 
and  his  tiger  nature  for  more  than  forty  years, 
and  cooked  his  meals,  done  his  washing,  and 
bound  up  his  wounds,  received  in  his  "argu- 
ments" with  his  fellows.  Nor  was  Mike  mean 
to  her.  He  was  too  brave  a  man  to  strike  a 
woman.  Time  and  again  had  she  urged  him 
to  quit  his  evil  ways  and  try  to  be  a  Christian. 
Mike  had  always  met  these  exhortations  with 
grunts  and  got  out  of  the  way  as  soon  as  his 
legs  could  carry  him. 

He  respected  religion,  and  thought  it  was  a 
good  thing  for  women  and  children  who  were 
weak  and  couldn't  fight;  but  for  a  strong  man 
who  could  defend  himself,  Mike  thought  it 
was  nonsense. 


254  DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE 

It  was  too  much  like  "begging  the  ques- 
tion" and  crying  "Nuff"  for  him  to  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  it. 

After  I  had  given  the  good  wife  and  mother 
my  opinion  of  Mike's  case,  she  asked  me  if 
I  would  not  frankly  tell  him  of  his  danger. 
She  added — : 

"I  have  tried  time  and  again  to  get  him  to 
be  a  Christian.  Since  he  has  been  sick  I 
have  asked  him  several  times  to  let  me  read 
the  scripture  to  him,  but  he  will  not  let  me. 
Doctor,  please  try  to  impress  him  with  a  sense 
of  his  danger.  I  don't  want  him  to  go  in  this 
way.  He  has  always  been  so  wicked  and  yet 
he  has  been  a  good,  kind  husband  to  me,  and 
if  he  would  only  seek  the  Lord  so  that  I 
could  meet  him  in  Heaven  I  would  be  so 
happy." 

Then  she  burst  into  tears.  After  talking 
with  the  other  doctor  it  was  agreed  that  I 
should  frankly  tell  "Uncle  Mike"  what  we 
thought  of  his  condition. 

I  went  in  and  said: 

"Uncle  Mike,  you  are  a  very  sick  man." 

"Yes,  sir;  I  suppose  I  am." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I  feel  it  my  duty  to  tell 
you  the  truth.  You  are  sixty-five  years  old, 
you  have  a  broken  arm  and  after  an  all  night's 
exposure  you  have  pneumonia  in  one  lung 
and  there  is  a  suspicion  in  our  minds  that  the 
other  is  about  to  be  invaded.  If  you  have 
any  unsettled  business,  either  pertaining  to  the 
here  or  the  hereafter  you  had  better  attend  to 
it  at  once.  We  think  that  the  chances  are  that 
you  will  die.  Now,  I  don't  want  to  scare 
you" — 


DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE  255 

"You  can't  scare  me  by — sir,  you  needn't 
say  that." 

"Pardon  me,  Uncle  Mike,  I  know  you  are 
not  a  coward,  but  if  you  wish  to  make  a  will 
or  have  any  unfinished  business  you  had 
better  attend  to  it  at  once." 

With  this  I  left  him. 

His  wife — "Aunt  Jane,"  as  she  was  called 
— met  me  on  the  porch  and  asked  me  what 
he  said. 

I  told  her  and  she  turned  sadly  away  with 
disappointment  in  her  face. 

I  continued  to  attend  the  case  with  my 
friend,  and  "Uncle  Mike"  grew  better  day 
by  day.  After  his  recovery  was  assured  "Aunt 
Jane"  told  us  the  following  story,  and  she 
laughed  through  streaming  tears  while  telling 
it: 

"On  the  afternoon  after  you  had  told  my 
husband  of  his  dangerous  condition,  I  was 
sitting  near  his  bed  and  watching  him.  He 
lay  and  looked  up  at  one  spot  on  the  ceiling 
for  about  an  hour.  Then  he  turned  his  head 
and  said: 

"Jane,  come  here." 

I  went  to  his  bed  side  and  asked: 

"What  do  you  want,  dear?" 

He  lay  still  a  moment  and  then  said  in  a 
choking  voice: 

"Jane,  you-may  get-that-book and-read- 

some  to  me if  you — want  to." 

I  was  so  pleased  that  I  almost  flew  to  the 
stand  where  the  Bible  was.  I  picked  it  up  and 
went  and  sat  down  by  the  bed  and  wiped  my 
spec's.  I  began  reading  from  the  first  place  I 
opened — for  I  have  heard  always  that  it  was 


256  DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE 

lucky  to  do  that.  I  happened  to  open  at  the 
account  of  the  stoning  of  Stephen.  I  read  and 
spelled  the  story  through  as  best  I  could — for 
I  am  not  a  good  reader." 

When  I  had  finished,  I  noticed  that  my 
husband's  face  was  flushed  and  the  muscles 
were  working.  I  felt  happy,  for  I  thought, 
that,  may  be,  the  spirit  was  at  work  in  his 
obdurate  heart.  He  looked  at  me  and  said: 

"Jane,  read  that  again." 


"JANE,  THEY  WAS  A  SET  OF  D D  COWARDS" 

I  slowly  and  carefully  read  the  story  again. 
As  I  went  on  and  read  about  how  the  mob 
put  upon  Stephen  and  beat  him,  I  could  see 
my  husband  work  his  under  jaw  and  draw  his 
shoulders  up  and  get  more  flushed  in  the  face 
and  I  felt  sure  that  he  was  about  to  be  con- 
verted. When  I  came  to  where  Stephen 
knelt  down  and  prayed  it  seemed  as  if  he  could 
hardly  keep  himself  in  bed,  and  when  I  had 
finished  he  turned  over  on  his  splintered  arm 


DEATH  BED  REPENTANCE  257 

and  raised  the  other  up  and  clenched  his  fist 
and  gritted  his  teeth  and  said: 

"Jane,  they  were  a  set  of  d d  cowards 

to  all  jump  on  to  one  man  like  that.  If  I'd 
a  been  there  I'd  a  whipped  a  half  dozen  of 
the  d d,  white  livered  cowards." 

This  was  in  accordance  with  Mike's  prin- 
ciples, for,  if  he  ever  took  part  in  other  men's 
fights  he  always  fought  for  the  "bottom  dog 
in  the  fight." 

"Uncle  Mike"  recovered  in  spite  of  our 
unfavorable  prognosis.  Within  a  few  years  he 
joined  the  church,  and-  for  the  last  few  years 
of  his  life  he  lived  a  quiet,  sober  and  religious 
life,  which  made  "Aunt  Jane"  so  happy  that 
she  almost  felt  that  she  had  been  translated  in 
the  flesh. 

They  are  both  dead  now  and  their  bodies 
rest  side  by  side,  and  it  is  reasonable  to  pre- 
sume that,  notwithstanding  "Uncle  Mike's" 
stormy  and  belligerent  life  here,  he  may  be 
able  to  get  along  with  the  saints  without  a 
row.  We  have  a  foundation  for  this  hope, 
when  we  know  that  "Uncle  Mike"  can  not 
get  drunk  "Up  There."  And  it  is  my  sincere 
prayer,  and  the  reader's,  I  hope,  that  "Aunt 
Jane"  is  happy  with  this  once  stormy  old 
warrior,  but  now  quiet  and  blissful  companion 
"on  the  evergreen  shore." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
SHAM  SUICIDES 

STARTLING  STATEMENT — THE  YOUNG  WIFE 
— THE  JILTED  GIRL  AND  THE  DEADLY  FLOUR 
— DR.  EGGSLINGER — STORY  OF  THE  WIDOW 
MINOR — THE  REJECTED  LOVER — HOW  TO 
DETECT  THE  FRAUD. 

JT  may,  perhaps,  seem 
Uike  a  strong  statement, 
coming  as  it  does  from 
a  physician,  when  I  say 
that  out  of  the  great 
number  of  cases  of  sup- 
posed poisoning — poison 
taken  with  a  suicidal  in- 
tent— to  which  a  doctor 
is  called,  not  more  than 
one  in  four  has  really 
taken  poison.  I  have  run  over  all  the  cases  to 
which  I  have  been  called  within  about  twenty- 
three  years  and  I  find  that  the  cases  average 
about  one  each  year,  and  out  of  these  twenty- 
three  cases  there  are  five  cases  in  which  poison 
had  really  been  taken  with  suicidal  intent. 
The  reader  will  naturally  inquire, 
"Then  what  motives  impel  people  <.o  pre- 
tend to  have  done  such  a  thing  when  the  result 
could  only  be  hurtful  to  themselves?" 

The  motives  are  as  numerous  and  as  foolish, 
dear  reader,  as  are  the  motives   which   impel 


SHAM  SUICIDES  259 

poor,  weak  human  beings  to  do  other  wrong 
and  foolish  things. 

Let  us  see: 

Here  is  a  young  woman  whose  parents  are 
in  <•  moderate  circumstances  in  life.  She  is 
reasonably  well  educated,  is  pretty,  emotional, 
weak,  vapid  and  hysterical,  and  to  add  to  the 
difficulty,  she  reads  the  trashiest  of  trashy 
novels.  In  other  words,  she  has  cultivated  a 
morbid  element  in  her  nature  and  you  can  not 
expect  anything  but  morbid  processes  in  mor- 
bid conditions. 

A  young  man  comes  to  see  her — courts  her 
in  fact.  He  is  young,  handsome  and,  perhaps, 
bad.  His  station  in  life  is  above  hers,  so  that 
whether  he  be  true  or  false,  some  people  will 
feel  warranted  in  questioning  his  motives 

The  poor  girl  loves  him.  She  builds  an  air 
castle  for  the  future  which  he  and  she  are  to 
occupy.  They  will  have  nothing  to  do,  accord 
ing  to  her  romantic  ways  of  thinking,  but  bask 
(these  poor  fools  are  always  "basking"  in 
something)  in  shady  bowers  and  watch  the 
sun  throw  rainbow  tints  through  spurting  foun- 
tains while  they  suck  eternal  and  everlasting  bliss 
through  double  straws. 

Suddenly  the  young  man  quits  coming. 
This  is  not  the  worst;  he  goes  to  see  another 
girl  and  she  finds  it  out.  He  avoids  her  on 
the  street  and  at  the  sociable.  This  is  a  ter- 
rible disappointment  to  a  weak  and  emotional 
nature.  It  is  an  awful  shock  to  a  romantic 
young  girl  who  has  builded  so  many  rose- 
tinted  air  castles. 

What  shall  she  do? 

She  must  win  him  back.     He  must  return. 


260  SHAM  SUICIDES 

She  puts  her  poor  little  wits  to  work  to  devise 
means  by  which  she  can  influence  him,  and, 
foolish  girl  that  she  is,  does  the  very  thing  that 
she  ought  not.  But  she  is  sensational  and 
romantic,  or  nothing,  and  whatever  -she  does 
must  have  the  elements  of  a  tragedy  in  it. 
She  goes  down  town  and  purchases  ten  cents' 
worth  of  strychnia  or  morphia.  Then  she 
goes  home  and  changes  the  poison  for  flour 
and,  going  into  the  presence  of  her  mother  and 
sister,  she  empties  the  flour  into  her  mouth, 
takes  a  drink  of  water,  and  throwing  herself 
into  a  tragic  attitude  says,  "Oh,  dear  mother 
and  sister  I  must  die.  I  have  taken  poison," 
and  then  flops  down  on  the  sofa,  shuts  both 
eyes  tightly  and  goes  to  foaming  at  the  mouth. 
Of  course  the  mother  and  sister  are  alarmed. 
The  family  physician  or  "any  physician,"  is 
sent  for  in  hot  haste.  He  comes,  and,  whether 
ignorantly  or  not  depends  on  circumstances, 
fills  the  miserable  thing  with  whites  of  eggs 
and  rancid  grease  and  sits  by  her  bedside  all 
night.  After  a  while  she  begins  to  show 
signs  of  returning  consciousness;  she  rolls  and 
moans  and  finally  exclaims, 

"Oh  Henry!  My  Henry!  Oh,  don't  let 
them  kill  my  dear  Henry!  Bring  him  to  me 
and  I  will  die  in  his  place." 

Now  this  is  a  fine  case  of  private  theatricals. 
Perhaps  Henry  is  sent  for  and  perhaps  not. 
At  all  events  Henry  is  a  rascal  and  he  feels 
that  he  is  in  his  very  bones. 

The  morning  paper  announces  that, 

"We  regret  to  learn  that  Miss  Maude 
Cushaw,  the  beautiful  and  accomplished  (these 
people  are  always  beautiful  and  accomplished) 


SHAM  SUICIDES  261 

daughter  of  our  esteemed  fellow  townsman, 
Col.  Cushaw,  took  a  deadly  poison  with  sui- 
cidal intent,  but  Dr.  Eggslinger  was  called  and 
after  using  the  stomach  pump  (bah!  Dr.  Eggs- 
linger  never  saw  a  stomach  pump  in  his  life) 
and  the  usual  remedies  her  numerous  friends 
will  be  glad  to  learn  that  the  young  lady  is  in 
a  fair  way  to  recover.  " 

Dr.  Eggslinger  goes  about  quietly  and  bears 
his  honors  meekly,  feeling  that  it  is  not  every 
country  practitioner  who  can  save  an  accom- 
plished young  lady  from  the  deadly  effects  of 
a  full  dose  of  XXX  flour  with  a  stomach  pump 
(which  he  did  not  have)  and  the  "usual  reme- 
dies." 

A  young  and  childless  wife  grows  jealous  of 
her  husband.  He  remains  out  late  at  night 
and  seems  to  be  growing  cold  and  neglectful, 
and  when  she  falls  on  his  neck  and  takes  the 
starch  out  of  his  shirt  collar  with  her  tears, 
he  pushes  her  away  and  says  "Oh,  pshaw, 
Mary,  you  are  foolish,"  and  goes  and  gets  a 
dry  collar  and  then  goes  down  town.  She 
reads  in  the  papers  about  the  faithlessness  of 
other  men  and  she  concludes  that  John  must 
be  faithless,  too.  The  poor,  loving  thing 
almost  breaks  her  heart  in  thinking  and  weep- 
ing, and  her  poor  life  becomes  thoroughly 
miserable.  She  begins  to  cast  about  her  for 
a  remedy  with  which  to  win  John  back  to  his 
first  love;  and  if  she  is  emotional  and  reads 
trashy  novels,  it  is  ten  to  one  she  will  try  the 
"poison  racket"  as  the  remedy. 

Another  woman  has  been  doing  wrong. 
She  has  gone  in  "by  and  forbidden  ways" 
and  at  last  gets  caught.  The  newspaper 


262  SHAM  SUICIDES 

writes  her  up  without  mercy  and  the  town 
rolls  the  scandal  as  a  sweet  morsel  under  its 
ponderous,  wagging  tongue.  The  poor,  guilty 
woman  stands  the  strain  for  a  day  or  two  and 
then  takes  poison — from  the  flour  barrel. 

I  had  just  such  a  case  once.  To  the  small 
town  where  I  was  practicing  there  came  a 
widow  of  the  grass  variety — a  regular  hay 
mow.  She  was  young  and  dashing,  and  while 
she  was  not  beautiful,  she  was  good  looking 
and  outdressed  all  the  other  women  in  town. 
She  connected  herself  with  a  prominent  church, 
plunged  right  into  the  middle  of  "our  best 
society"  with  a  "hop,  skip,  and  jump,"  and,  in  a 
short  time,  cut  a  swath  like  a  self-raking  reaper. 

There  were  two  young  widowers  suing  for 
her  hand,  apparently,  but  a  red  nosed  grocer 
got  away  with  the  prize.  He  had  an  enor- 
mous nose  which  always  had  the  appearance 
of  having  been  recently  painted  and  varnished, 
and  his  eyes  always  looked  as  if  they  had  been 
lined  with  red  flannel  and  stitched  on  the  sew- 
ing machine  (marginal  blepharitis). 

The  widow  had  rooms  (in  which  she  kept 
her  millinery)  at  our  principal  hotel  and  George 
(the  grocerman)  was  in  the  habit  of  spending 
his  Sundays  in  the  widow's  "office."  The 
jealous  widowers  peeped  through  the  glass  in 
the  door  and  saw  things  too  horrible  to  relate. 
Within  an  hour  it  was  all  over  town  and  formed 
the  theme  for  a  ten  days'  gossip.  On  the  next 
day  a  young  man  rushed  into  my  office  and 
breathlessly  informed  me  that  "Misses  Minor 
has  tuck  pizen  and  they  want  you  to  go  just  as 
quick  as  you  can  get  thar." 

I  went. 


SHAM  SUICIDES  263 

It  was  my  first  case  of  poisoning  and  I 
cudgeled  my  brain  on  the  way  as  to  what  I 
should  do. 

Arriving  at  the  room  I  found  the  widow 
on  the  bed  with  eyes  tight  shut  and  foaming  at 
the  mouth.  She  was  surrounded  by  the  kind 
hearted  hotel  keeper,  his  wife,  and  several 
other  ladies — all  wringing  their  hands  and 
lamenting  that  such  a  thing  should  occur  in 
our  quiet  and  moral  town.  I  felt  her  pulse. 
It  was  seventy-six,  soft  and  regular;  pupils  nor- 
mal and  responsive  to"  the  light.  It  was  my 
first  case  and  I  was  young,  but  I  was  wise 
enough  to  know  that  the  widow  was  "actin' 
up."  I  asked  who  would  most  probably  have 
brought  her  the  poison,  if  she  had  really 
taken  it.  They  all  accused  the  grocer  in  one 
unanimous  and  concurrent  breath.  I  sent  for 
George  and  he  came.  His  nose  had  taken  on 
a  real  inflammatory  hue  and  the  red  flannel 
hung  over  the  edges  of  the  free  borders  of  the 
lids  a  little  more  than  usual.  I  questioned 
him  and  he  swore  by  the  memory  of  all  the 
saints  that  he  had  brought  her  nothing.  This 
confirmed  my  diagnosis.  But  I  must  save  the 
poor  widow's  reputation.  She  had  suffered 
enough  for  permitting  George,  with  his  ery- 
sipelatous  proboscis  and  his  carmine  optics, 
to  take  off  his  shoes  and  coat  and  lie  down  on 
the  bed  (for  that  was  all  that  had  been  seen) 
while  she  sat  and  lovingly  kept  the  flies  off 
him.  The  flies  were  always  lighting  on  and 
inspecting  George's  nose  and  looking  into  his 
flaming  orbs,  and  any  good  milliner  might  have 
been  permitted  to  keep  them  away  without 
compromising  herself.  George's  nose  might 


264  SHAM  SUICIDES 

spoil  if  they  were  permitted  to  invade  it  and 
that  would  be  terrible. 

I  said,  so  that  all  could  hear  me  (and  I 
especially  wanted  the  widow  to  hear  me): 

"I  don't  think  this  lady  has  taken  anything. 
I  am  not  acquainted  with  her,  but  she  looks 
like  too  sensible  a  woman  to  commit  self  destruc- 
tion. Her  mind  and  nervous  system  have  been 
put  to  a  great  strain  in  consequence  of  these 
ugly  stories,  and  it  has  thrown  her  into  a  state 
of  catalepsy,  but  she  will  come  out  all  right. 
However,  I  always  give  the  patient  the  benefit 
of  the  doubt  and  shall,  therefore,  give  her  an 
emetic." 

I  mixed  up  a  solution  of  Tartar  emetic  and 
ipecac  (a  most  abominable  compound)  and  put 
a  teaspoonful  in  her  mouth.  She  worked  it 
out.  I  put  in  another,  covered  her  mouth 
with  my  hand  and  held  her  nose  between  my 
thumb  and  index  finger.  The  milliner  hesi- 
tated and  then — swallowed.  I  repeated  the 
dose  every  five  minutes.  After  the  third  dose 
the  milliner  began  to  turn  white  around  the 
mouth  and  great  beads  of  perspiration  stood 
on  her  forehead.  She  got  limber  and  then 
she  made  a  plunge  for  the  bed  side.  I  was 
prepared  for  this  and  received  her  with  applause 
and  a  wash  basin.  It  was  not  long  until  the 
first  act  was  encored  and  the  encore  was  repeated. 
Then  the  milliner  began  to  mutter.  I  knew 
she  was  "coming  to."  I  would  have  given 
her  more  of  the  vile  stuff,  but  she  had  already 
thrown  up  her  immortal  soul  and  I  thought 
enough  was  enough.  My  partner  having  ar- 
rived I  sent  everybody  else  out  of  the  room. 
As  the  widow  had  been  paddling  for  more 


SHAM  SUICIDES 


265 


than  an  hour  in  the  disagreeable  and  uncer- 
tain waters  of  assumed  unconsciousness  I 
wished  to  give  her  a  chance  to  come  ashore. 
She  muttered  some  more,  and  then  talked: 

"Oh,  father,  dear  father," 

"Come  home  with  me  now,"  I  added  in 
an  "aside"  to  my  partner. 

"They  have  been  pilin'  big  rocks  on  your 
Ophelia." 


I  RECEIVED  HER  WITH  APPLAUSE  AND  A 
WASH  BASIN- 

"Ophelia!  ye  gods,  this  is  high  tragedy," 
in  another  aside. 

"Oh,  father,  come"  ("where  my  love  lies 
dreaming,"  aside)  "And  take  your  poor  child 
home." 

Then  she  did  the  finest  piece  of  acting  I 
ever  saw  on  or  off  the  stage. 

As  I  was  lifting  her  back  after  one  of  her 
ineffectual  attempts  to  start  the  planter  fascia, 
she  suddenly  opened  her  eyes  and  then,  with 


266  SHAM  SUICIDES 

a  startled  look  and  drawing  in  her  breath  and 
lifting  her  hands  deprecatingly,  she  exclaimed: 
"O,  you  are  not  father;  who  are  you?" 
"No,  I  am  not  father,  I  am  just  father  pro 
tern.  Lie  down,  my  dear,  you'll  take  cold." 
The  widow  recovered,  sold  out  her  millin- 
ery in  bulk  and  went  out  in  the  country  to 
remain  a  while  with  a  kind  family  which 
belonged  to  that  branch  of  the  church  which 
had  championed  her  cause.  About  a  month 
afterward  they  began  to  tire  of  her  and  in- 
formed her  that  they  could  not  keep  her  longer. 
On  that  night  I  received  an  urgent  call  to  go 
out  and  see  her  as  she  was  supposed  to  be 
dying.  I  knew  that  she  was  not,  but  I  went 
out.  On  arriving  at  the  place  I  was  met  at 
the  door  by  the  kind  hearted  lady  of  the  house 
(a  most  noble  and  beautiful  character  of  a 
good,  religious  wife  and  mother)  who  was 
trembling  and  weeping.  She  hurriedly  told  me 
that  she  had  that  afternoon  told  the  widow 
that  she  could  not  keep  her  longer;  soon  after- 
ward the  widow  had  dumped  herself  on  the 
lounge,  set  her  teeth  and  foamed  at  the  mouth, 
and,  she  had  not  spoken  a  word  since  and  the 
good  lady  was  afraid  she  would  die.  I  soon 
calmed  her  fears  and  went  into  the  presence 
of  the  supposed  to  be  dying  woman. 

I  wished  to  do  what  talking  I  had  to  do  in 
the  presence  of  the  patient.     The  lady  asked: 
"Doctor,  do  you  think  she  will  die?" 
"Oh,  no,"  I  answered,  "she  is  in  a  peculiar 
nervous    condition   called    catalepsy.     You   re- 
member that  she  had  a  similar  attack  at  the 
hotel,  but  I  soon  brought  her  out  it  of.     I  have 
a  remedy  which  will  vomit  and  relax  her,  and, 


SHAM  SUICIDES  267 

in  a  few  minutes,  she  will  be  all  right.  Now 
I  knew  that  I  was  not  going  to  get  to  repeat 
that  nauseous  dose  in  the  widow's  case.  No 
person  ever  wants  to  take  that  dose  twice. 

But  I  began  to  mix  the  dose  and  then  the 
widow  began  to  grind  her  teeth  and  mutter. 
I  knew  she  was  preparing  to  come  ashore  before 
taking  the  medicine.  I  continued  to  stir  the 
dose  and  talk  to  the  lady  of  the  house  about 
catalepsy  and  the  rapid  action  of  the  drug. 
After  a  few  minutes  she  opened  her  eyes, 
gazed  wanderingly  around,  fastened  her  gaze 
on  me  and  asked  with  a  surprised  voice: 

"Why,  good  evening,  doctor,  where  did  you 
come  from?" 

"Oh,  I  dropped  right  down  from  Heaven 
— came  to  minister  to  the  suffering." 

I  announced  that  it  would  not  be  necessary 
to  give  the  remedy  since  she  had  come  out  of 
the  cataleptic  state  without  it. 

The  widow  soon  flitted  away  beyond  my 
horizon  and  went — the  Lord  only  knows  where. 
But,  if  she  be  living  and  her  eyes  ever  read 
this  story  I  wish  to  apologize  to  her  for  having 
given  her  the  abominable  dose.  I  had  been 
taught  by  older  heads  that  it  was  the  proper 
thing  to  do  in  cases  of  hysteria  and  of  persons 
making  pretense  when  there  was  nothing  the 
matter.  The  advice  was  very  bad  and  my 
action  altogether  wrong.  Doctors  should  be 
ministers  of  healing  and  therefore  have  no 
right  to  administer  punishment.  No  matter 
how  reprehensible  the  action  of  the  patient  the 
doctor  should  remember  that  it  is  his  province 
to  come  with  healing  in  his  hands,  in  his  voice, 
in  his  every  act. 


268  SHAM  SUICIDES 

We  should  learn  to  look  leniently  on  all 
such  cases,  for  they  must  necessarily  come  from 
morbid  conditions  of  either  mind  or  body.  I 
would  much  rather  be  loved  for  my  kindness 
and  tenderness  toward  a  poor,  miserable  wretch 
than  to  be  hated  for  my  cruelty.  It  is  our 
duty,  when  alone  with  such  patients,  to  speak 
very  plainly  to  them  and  to  give  them  to  under- 
stand that  we  are  not  deceived  (f®r  none  of 
us  like  to  be  taken  for  fools),  but  whatever 
we  do  and  whatever  we  say  should  be  said  and 
done  in  great  kindness. 

Poor  weak  women  are  not  the  only  ones 
who  are  capable  of  and  liable  to  do  such  foolish 
things.  Men  often  persuade  themselves  that 
they  can  move  upon  the  feelings  of  a  loved 
one  or  excite  the  sympathy  of  the  community 
by  foolishly  pretending  to  have  taken  a  deadly 
drug. 

I  was  called  one  night  to  see  a  young  man 
who  was  supposed  to  have  become  suddenly 
insane.  I  found  him  in  an  open  lot  adjoining 
his  father's  residence,  with  this  history: 

He  had  come  home  from  the  residence  of 
a  most  excellent  young  lady,  who  had  repeat- 
edly told  him  that  she  could  not  marry  him. 
On  this  night  she  had  emphasized  the  state- 
ment and  had  succeeded  in  convincing  him 
that  she  was  in  earnest.  Feeling  provoked  in 
some  way  he  suddenly  swore  at  his  mother 
and  then  informed  her  that  he  had  taken  poison, 
and  when  his  father  arose  to  go  after  me  the 
young  man  drew  his  revolver  and  fired  at  him. 
He  then  retreated  into  this  open  lot  where  he 
remained  in  seeming  great  agony,  but  kept 
everybody  at  bay  with  a  revolver. 


SHAM  SUICIDES 


269 


I  found  an  excited  crowd  surrounding  this 
lot,  parleying  with  the  young  man  and  trying 
to  devise  ways  and  means  for  his  capture.  He 
would  listen  to  nothing,  but  kept  the  crowd 
terrorized  by  occasionally  firing  over  their 

m 


I  MADE  THE  MOST  GALLANT  AND  HEROIC 
CHARGE  OF  MY  LIFE 

heads.  Lariating  him  was  suggested,  forming 
a  company  of  cavalry  and  riding  him  down, 
etc.,  etc. 

During  all  this  time  the  young  man  seemed 
in  great  agony — doubling  up  and  groaning, 
lying  down  and  rolling  and  eating  ice  and  snow 
which  he  scraped  up  with  an  oyster  can.  I 
finally  said  that  if  the  crowd  would  attract  his 
attention  I  would  go  around  the  back  way  and 
charge  him  from  the  rear.  This  I  did,  making 
the  most  gallant  and  heroic  charge  of  my  life, 


270  SHAM  SUICIDES 

as  I  then  supposed,  to  save  an  erring  fellow 
mortal.  He  heard  me,  however,  fired  at  me 
as  I  came  and  then  arose  to  a  knee  and  hand 
posture.  I  fell  over  him  and  sprained  my 
ankle  and  hip.  He  got  up  first  and  seizing 
my  "plug"  hat  which  had  fallen  in  the  fray, 
he  cast  it  up  and  neatly  put  a  bullet  hole  in 
it  while -I  was  getting  up.  I  got  my  perfor- 
ated plug  and  made  a  hasty  retreat.  I  then 
became  satisfied  that  he  was  shamming.  A 
few  minutes  afterward  he.  assumed  a  sitting 
posture  and  raising  his  left  arm  he  pointed  his 
pistol  diagonally  across  his  breast  and  fired; 
the  bullet  perforating  the  uplifted  outer  border 
of  his  left  pectoralis  major  muscle. 

He  was  quickly  carried  to  the  house  and, 
upon  close  examination,  I  decided  that  he 
had  taken  nothing.  He  at  once  inquired  for 
the  young  lady.  That  settled  it.  He  con- 
tinued his  threats  to  the  family,  however,  and 
the  father  turned  the  case  over  to  me  to  deal 
with  as  I  thought  best.  I  put  him  in  jail 
without  a  warrant  "in  one  time  and  three 
motions." 

Twenty-four  hours  made  him  as  docile  as  an 
Alderney  heifer,  and,  upon  his  promising  to 
behave,  I  let  him  out.  He  left  the  country, 
married  another  girl,  and  did  well. 

Sitting  in  a  drug  store  one  Sunday  after- 
noon a  Branch- Water  Man  came  in  looking 
for  a  doctor.  The  druggist  directed  him  to 
me.  He  represented  the  extreme  type  of  the 
Branch- Water  Man.  He  looked  as  if  he  had 
just  bought  a  complete  outfit  from  a  rag  man. 
His  hat  was  greasy,  old  and  torn,  and  his 
trousers  sagged  miserably  at  the  base.  He  was 


SHAM  SUICIDES  271 

unacquainted  with  soap  and  an  entire  stranger 
to  disinfectants. 

He  informed  me  that  he  wanted  me  to  go 
and  see  a  sick  man  at  the  "Junction  House" 
just  as  quick  as  I  could  "git  thar. "  I  inquired 
as  to  the  man's  symptoms.  He  didn't  know 
anything  except  that  the  man  was  "awful  sick." 
I  further  insisted  and  informed  him  that  I 
might  want  to  take  something  with  me. 

"Well,"  said  he,  at  last,  and  as  if  he  was 
being  compelled  to  divulge  a  lodge  secret,  "ef 
I  must  tell  you,  they  say  he  tuck  assnic." 

"How  much  arsenic'did  he  take?" 

"Well,  they  say  he  tuck  a  half  pint." 

I  informed  him  that  if  his  friend  had  taken 
a  half  pint  of  this  deadly  drug  I  thought  he 
would  be  ready  for  the  compost  heap  in  a 
short  time.  I  instinctively  knew,  however, 
that  the  man  had  done  no  such  thing.  The 
"Junction  House"  was  a  regular  hive  for  this 
class  of  people  and  I  never  knew  one  of  them 
to  commit  suicide  in  my  life.  It  is  a  pity  they 
do  not. 

Reaching  the  house  I  found  the  lower  halls 
and  stairways  lined  with  women  and  children. 
Entering  the  room  I  found  it  full  of  worthless 
men,  and  "Nat,  the  fiddler,"  on  a  rickety  bed. 
As  soon  as  he  saw  me  he  arose  to  a  sitting 
posture  and  blaring  his  eyes  and  throwing  his 
hands  up  and  down  he  uttered  an  "oo-ah, 
oo-ah,  oo-ah,  oo-ah."  Two  men  jumped  on 
him  and  bore  him,  by  main  strength,  to  the 
bed  and  there  held  him  tight  and  fast. 

I  interfered  and  ordered  them  to  let  him  alone. 

"Why,"  said  one,  "ef  we  don't  hold  him 
he'll  butt  his  brains  out." 


272  SHAM  SUICIDES 

"Let  him  butt  them  out,"  said  I,  "he  don't 
need  them." 

If  hysterical  men  and  women,  who  are  put- 
ting on  airs,  were  left  alone  they  would  soon 
subside;  but,  it  seems  that  there  never  was  a 
man  who  acted  the  fool  who  didn't  have  a 
fool  to  hold  him.  And  the  same  may  be  said 
of  women. 

I  learned,  incidentally,  that  Nat  had  re- 
cently gone  away  with  a  newly  organized  vari- 
ety show,  in  which  a  young  woman,  noted  more 
for  the  scantiness  rather  than  the  richness  of 
her  apparel,  was  the  principal  attraction.  Nat 
went  along  to  furnish  the  music.  The  com- 
pany had  taken  in  about  four  towns  when  it 
collapsed.  This  had  left  Nat  with  his  violin 
high  and  dry,  without  a  cent  and  ninety  miles 
from  home.  He  pawned  his  fiddle  and  coat 
for  victuals.  He  got  a  "tie  pass"  and  when 
he  reached  home  found  another  fellow  occupy- 
ing his  place  in  his  household;  and  his  wife, 
feeling  that  Nat  had  been  too  much  of  a  wor- 
shipper at  the  feet  of  Bessie  (she  of  the  scanty 
apparel)  refused  to  permit  him  to  enter.  Nat 
beat  about  the  bush  and  "slept  with  the  out- 
hogs"  for  a  few  days  and  then  went  on  a  spree. 

This  pretended  attempt  to  take  poison  was 
the  result  of  the  spree. 

The  newspapers  wrote  him  up  in  good  style, 
basing  their  strictures  of  his  conduct  upon  my 
statement  that  it  was  not  poison.  Nat  went 
to  the  office  and  tried  to  convince  the  editor 
that  he  had  taken  poison.  I  then  had  the 
paper  state  that  Nat  had  the  same  reasons  for 
committing  suicide  now  that  he  had  before 
with  the  additional  reason  that  a  majority  of 


SHAM  SUICIDES  273 

the  people  in  town  thought  that  he  had  made 
an  ass  of  himself;  that  I  had  ten  grains  of 
strychnia  weighed  out  which  I  would  give 
him  upon  application,  and  would  agree  to 
lock  the  doors  and  keep  everybody  out  until 
it  acted. 

He  didn't  come  and  get  it. 

It  may  be  said  that  a  physician  should  not 
expose  a  patient  under  such  circumstances. 

Under  some  circumstances,  no ;  under  others, 
yes.  When  a  certain  kind  of  men  and  women 
try  to  play  a  sensational  role  and  lacerate  the 
feelings  of  a  sensitive  and  kind  hearted  people 
by  a  pretense  and  a  fraud,  then  I  think  that 
no  good  and  honorable  physician  is  bound  to 
lend  himself  or  become  a  party  to  such  frauds. 
Let  the  truth  come  and  hit  them  hard. 

It  is  easy  enough  to  detect  these  frauds,  as 
a  general  thing.  Any  physician  ought  to  know 
that  a  poison  which  is  so  deadly  and  instan- 
taneous in  its  effects  as  to  cause  the  patient  to 
fall  down  immediately  after  swallowing  it, 
should  kill  at  once,  and  before  he  could  possibly 
reach  the  patient.  Again,  a  poison  which 
affects  the  general  system  so  suddenly  and  so 
seriously  should  put  almost  every  muscle  in  the 
body  in  a  state  of  semi- paralysis.  In  such  a 
case  the  eyes  would  be  open  or  partly  open.  In 
most  cases  the  pupils  should  be  affected — 
either  dilated  or  contracted.  The  pulse  should, 
as  a  rule,  be  weak  and  rapid.  In  many  cases 
there  should  be  vomiting  or  retching.  It  is  also 
important  to  know  whether  the  patient  fell  on 
a  bed  or  lounge,  or  on  the  floor  or  ground. 
Real  suicides  do  not  choose  soft  places  on 
which  to  fall. 


274  SHAM  SUICIDES 

If  the  patient  is  pretending  he  or  she  will, 
almost  surely,  shut  the  eyes  very  tight  and  when 
the  physician  attempts  to  open  them  for  in- 
spection, there  will  be  voluntary  muscular 
resistance. 

Now,  with  close-shut  eyes,  pulse  at  seventy 
or  eighty,  no  dilatation  or  contraction  of  the 
pupils,  the  extremities  warm  and  the  addition 
of  a  motive  for  this  kind  of  acting  (if  you  can. 
get  at  the  motive)  you  may  rely  on  it  that,  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten,  you  will  be  safe  in  saying 
that  the  patient  has  taken  nothing  that  will 
kill  her.  It  may  not  always  be  best  to  say  that 
the  patient  is  pretending,  and  this  more  espe- 
cially in  the  case  of  young  girls.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  tell  the  crowd  anything,  except 
that  she  will  not  die.  But,  do  not  hesitate  to 
tell  her  parents;  and,  as  soon  as  the  girl  will 
consent  to  talk,  make  her  understand  that  you 
are  not  deceived — for  she  will  respect  you  the 
more  when  she  knows  that  you  are  not.  It 
may  not  be  out  of  place  in  such  cases  to  deliver 
a  kind,  but  firm  lecture  to  the  young  woman 
regarding  the  wickedness  and  foolishness  of  her 
conduct.  If  done  right  it  will  do  good. 


CHAPTER  XV 
LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 


GENERAL  OBSERVATIONS  ON  LYING — CLASSIFI- 
CATION OF  LIARS — BILL  WHITTINGTON  AND 
A  SAMPLE  OF  HIS  LIES — SIM'S  UNFAIR  TRICK 
— THE  STORY  OF  THE  BULLIES — JACK,  THE 
BARBER,  AND  RAFFERTY*S  FUNERAL — A  GREAT 
SHOT  AND  A  FAST  TROTTER — DO  DOCTORS 
LIE  ?  SEVERAL  SAMPLES  WHICH  ANSWER  THE 
QUESTION — AN  ASYLUM  FOR  LIARS. 


T  is  a  puzzling  thing, 
to   any  one   who   has 
studied    humanity   to 
lany  extent,  that  there 
are    so   many  liars  in  the 
world.    Children  are  taught 
in    school   that    "truth    is 
mighty  and  will   prevail;" 
=3£   that    lying    is    sinful    and 


ij  that  his  Satanic  Majesty — 
l|'  the  engineer  and  fireman 
who  runs  the  heating  and 
drying  department  in  the  basement  of  the 
Hereafter — is  the  father  of  liars.  Notwith- 
standing this  the  world  is  just  swarming 
with  liars  all  the  time.  We  are  a  nation 
of  liars,  and  I  had  about  concluded  that  we 
were  the  only  nation  in  existence  that  enjoyed 
this  unenviable  distinction,  until  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  many  people  of  other  climes, 


276  LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 

and  then  I  changed  my  mind.  All  nations  have 
their  liars  and  many  of  them. 

It  is  curious  to  note  the  reasons  and  motives 
that  men  have  for  lying.  One  man  will  tell  a 
lie  from  a  motive  and  a  standpoint  that  will 
make  his  neighbor  ashamed,  and  yet  that  neigh- 
bor will  turn  around  and  tell  a  lie  from  some 
other  motive  and  never  feel  ashamed  at  all. 

Women  are  not  great  liars.  That  is,  the 
proportion  of  women  who  lie  is  not  as  great  as 
that  which  pertains  to  the  male  population. 
Women  are  more  refined,  and  more  timid — 
many  of  them  are  afraid  to  lie,  and  yet  when  a 
woman  does  lie  she  makes  it  count*  She  means 
to  hurt  some  one  and  the  chances  are  that  she 
will. 

Did  you  ever  note  the  different  kinds  of  liars  ? 
Here  are  some  of  them: 

The  accidental  liar  is  a  man  who  tells  a  lie 
because  he  forgets  the  truth.  He  is  telling  a 
story  or  relating  a  circumstance  and,  suddenly, 
his  memory  fails  him  on  a  given  point.  There 
is  a  gap  that  must  be  filled  or  the  story  is 
ruined.  He  goes  to  work  at  once  and  fills  it 
with  something  larger  than  the  thing  he  forgot. 
A  lie  is  generally  bigger  than  the  truth;  that  is, 
it  seems  bigger,  or,  in  other  words,  a  lie  about 
a  given  thing  is  bigger  than  the  truth  is  about 
the  same  matter. 

Then  we  have  the  malicious  liar.  He  or  she 
is  the  fellow  or  fellowess  who  tells  a  lie  to  injure 
some  one's  reputation.  Fortunately  for  the 
world  there  are  not  many  of  them.  It  is  a  rare 
thing  that  any  man  or  woman  invents  a  lie 
"out  of  whole  cloth"  for  the  purpose  of  in- 
juring another.  But  it  is  done,  and  sometimes 


LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES  277 

with  success.  If  a  woman  lies — and  she  does 
not  often  do  so,  God  bless  her! — she  is  more 
apt  to  be  a  malicious  liar  than  is  a  man.  Some 
of  the  most  hurtful  lies  I  have  ever  encountered 
have  been  told  by  women. 

Then  we  have  the  selfish  liar.  He  tells  lies 
for  selfish  reasons.  He  does  not  wish  to  hurt 
others,  but  he  desires  to  help  himself  along  in 
the  world.  He  will  lie  about  business  matters; 
he  will  lie  about  politics;  he  will  lie  about  any- 
thing that  will  give  him  pennies  or  position. 
He  may  be  a  good  fellow,  but  he  is  greedy  and 
craving,  and  just  throws  in  a  lie  now  and  then 
to  help  himself  along  and  keep  things  moving. 

The  boasting  liar  is  the  most  numerous  and 
the  least  harmful  of  the  lot.  This  is  the  fellow 
who  has  done  such  wonderful  things  in  his 
time,  and  has  seen  such  miraculous  perform- 
ances "back  yonder,  where  I  came  from."  He 
has  worked  at  everything  and  done  some  things 
in  all  trades  and  lines  of  business,  and  has 
always  excelled  and  startled  his  friends  with 
his  superior  skill  and  tact,  and  yet  he  is  poor. 
I  have  sat  down  and  heard  these  fellows  tell  of 
the  different  trades  they  have  worked  at  and  the 
different  lines  of  business  they  had  been  in, 
and  the  number  of  years  they  had  followed 
each  one,  and  have  quietly  taken  down  the 
number  of  these  years,  and  I  have  then  gone 
off  and  added  the  figures  together  and  found 
that  the  man  was,  by  his  own  admission,  at 
least  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  years  old.  In 
the  presence  of  the  boasting  liar  you  can  not 
speak  of  a  dog  fight,  a  big  fish,  a  strong  man, 
or  a  big  tree  without  the  fear  of  hearing  one  of 
his  lies.  It  does  no  good  to  protest  against  the 


278  LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 

lies  of  this  fellow,  for,  if  you  do  so,  you  only 
put  him  to  the  trouble  of  going  through  the 
form  of  swearing  to  them  without  the  notary. 
The  redeeming  feature  of  this  man  is  that  he 
is  nearly  always  a  pleasant  man  in  his  profes- 
sion of  champion  liar.  You  may  go  to  work 
and  make  up  as  big  a  lie  as  you  please — just 
concoct  a  "whopper,"  in  order  to  beat  him,  and 
he  will  sit  and  listen  to  you  with  all  the  patience 
of  an  attentive  and  interested  auditor — never 
indicating  by  sign,  word  or  look  that  he  does  not 
believe  you.  Nor  does  he  interrupt  you,  and 
when  you  are  done  he  will  ask  you  for  a  chew 
of  tobacco,  clear  his  throat,  change  his  position 
a  little,  and  smile — then  say:  "That  reminds 
me." 

Now  you  may  look  out.  He  has  been  pleas- 
ant and  deferential  to  you.  He  expects  the 
same  treatment  from  you.  You  may  now 
prepare  for  defeat,  for  the  boasting  liar  will 
never  suffer  defeat  so  long  as  he  can  get  to 
tell  the  last  story.  Strange  to  say,  the  boast- 
ing liar  tells  many  of  his  lies  until  there  is  no 
doubt  that  he  finally  believes  them  himself. 
This  liar  has  his  stock  in  trade  which  he  retails 
— and  wholesales  if  occasion  requires — at  all 
times,  but  he  will  invent  a  special  lie  for  a 
special  occasion.  He  will  invent  a  lie  this 
way  and,  perhaps,  never  tell  it  again. 

For  instance,  I  was  in  a  group  of  gentlemen 
once  and  the  subject  of  the  conversation  was 
the  curious  results  of  wounds — of  men  wounded 
so  seriously  that  it  would  seem  they  must  die, 
and  yet  they  would  get  well;  and  of  others 
wounded  so  slightly  it  seemed  scarcely  worthy 
attention  and  yet  they  would  die.  As  an  illus- 


LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES  279 

tration  I  gave  an  instance  of  a  Federal  Cap- 
tain who  was  shot  through  the  right  lung  with 
a  grape  shot  at  the  battle  of  Lexington,  Mo., 
and  who  recovered,  and  of  another  man  who 
got  a  small  pistol  ball  in  the  wrist  and  died, 
"and,"  I  added,  "the  extremes  are  even  greater 
than  this,  for  men  have  died  from  getting  a 
tomato  seed  in  the  appendix  vermiformis." 
There  was  a  man  standing  by  whom  I  had 
never  seen,  and  whom  I  would  not  have  judged 
to  be  a  liar,  who  spoke  up  and  said, 

"Yes,  stranger,  it  is- just  as  you  say.  It  is 
queer  how  those  fellows  will  get  well  after 
such  serious  accidents.  Now  I  was  standing 
in  our  town  (it  was  the  capital  of  his  state) 
talking  to  some  gentlemen  once.  There  was 
a  fellow  painting  the  roof  of  a  five  story  build- 
ing just  across  the  way  and  we  were  watching 
him.  All  of  a  sudden  his  foot  slipped  and  he 
skeeted  off  that  roof  and  came  toward  the 
side-walk  like  a  flying  squirrel.  When  he 
struck  on  the  hard  granite  you  could  have 
heard  it  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  We  all  rushed 
to  his  assistance  but  before  we  could  reach  him 
he  got  up  and  shook  himself,  climbed  back 
up  the  ladder  and  went  to  painting  again. 
He  wouldn't  even  stop  to  tell  us  how  he  felt." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  and  then  the 
little  crowd  quietly  dispersed.  They  were  all 
good  Christian  men  and  no  one  struck  him. 
I  really  believe  the  fellow  thought  I  was  lying 
about  the  grape  shot  and  the  tomato  seed 
and  was  trying  to  "lay  over  me." 

I  knew  one  of  those  fellows  once  amongst 
the  western  pioneers.  He  was  a  Branch  Water 
Man.  He  lived  in  a  cabin  that  would  have 


280 


LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 


made  a  Digger  Indian  ashamed  of  himself, 
and  if  he  ever  worked  any  nobody  knew  when 
he  did  it.  Yet,  with  the  aid  of  his  rifle  and 
his  wife  he  lived,  and  was  one  of  the  happiest 
mortals  I  ever  knew.  His  wife  wove  and 
spun  the  wearing  apparel  of  the  family  and 
she  generally  managed  to  get  her  jeans  out  in 


BILL  WAS  LAME  IN  HIS   LEFT  FOOT  AND  HIS 
SON  IN  THE  RIGHT 

the  spring — being  five  months  late — and  her 
home  made  linen  in  the  autumn,  so  that 
Bill  (his  name  was  Bill  Whittington)  always 
wore  his  linen  through  the  winter  and  his  white 
undyed  jeans  in  the  summer.  The  shifts 
that  family  would  make  as  to  clothes  was 
remarkable.  Bill  had  a  grown  son,  and  one 
winter,  I  remember,  he  was  not  able  to  buy 
but  one  pair  of  men's  shoes.  So  he  and  his 
son  each  took  a  shoe  and  tied  up  the  other 
foot  and  went  lame  all  winter.  Bill  was 
lame  in  his  left  foot  and  his  son  in  the  right. 


LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES  281 

Bill  was  not  accomplished  in  but  one  in- 
dustry and  that  was  lying.  He  hunted  a  little 
—just  enough  to  keep  the  family  in  meat  and 
to  take  a  deer  skin  to  "the  store"  occasionally 
to  get  some  article  of  family  necessity.  He 
had  really  never  done  anything  but  lie  and 
hunt  in  his  life,  yet  he  would  tell  of  the  most 
marvelous  things  that  he  had  done.  He  had 
been  a  merchant,  a  steam  boat  captain,  a 
Mississippi  pilot,  an  architect  and  builder — in 
short,  almost  everything.  He  would  sit  down 
and  tell  with  the  most  astonishing  gravity 
about  having  built  a  house  for  a  wealthy  friend 
in  the  state  from  which  he  came.  The  man 
had  unlimited  wealth  and  just  gave  him  carte 
blanche  for  materials  without  regard  to  cost. 
When  Bill  finished  the  house  in  which  there 
were  twenty-five  rooms,  it  was  a  marvel  of 
perfection  and  beauty.  The  wood-work  could 
be  used  for  mirrors  and  the  floors  were  polished 
so  that  they  reflected  the  walls  and  all  that 
hung  upon  them. 

The  fellow  couldn't  put  a  pawpaw  handle 
in  a  garden  hoe  and  do  it  well.  Bill  would 
sit  up  and  tell  these  stories  in  the  presence  of 
his  wife  (who  had  known  him  from  his  child- 
hood) and  never  smile. 

The  subject  of  wells  was  mentioned  once. 
Some  one  spoke  of  a  very  deep  well  which  he 
had  seen.  This  was  a  "starter"  for  Bill.  He 
said  the  deepest  well  he  ever  saw  was  dug  by 
himself  and  his  brother  "back  yonder  where 
I  came  from."  A  man  had  hired  them  to 
dig  a  well  during  a  dry  year,  when  the  water 
was  scarce,  and  had  agreed  to  pay  them  so 
much  per  foot  until  water  was  struck.  They 


282  LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 

started  in  and  dug  and  dug,  and  yet  no  water. 
They  put  in  better  hoisting  machinery  and  con- 
tinued to  dig,  but  still  no  moisture.  After  several 
months'  work  they  got  so  deep  that  it  con- 
sumed a  great  portion  of  their  time  in  going 
down  of  mornings  and  coming  up  at  night. 
Then  they  arranged  to  remain  in  the  well 
day  and  night  and  had  their  provisions  let 
down  to  them  by  the  returning  tubs  which 
hauled  up  the  dirt.  They  had  a  convenient 
arrangement  of  ropes,  bells  and  signals  by 
which  they  made  all  their  wants  known  to 
those  working  on  the  outside. 

"After  we  had  been  in  thar  for  several 
months,"  said  Bill,  "we  was  workin'  along 
one  afternoon — I  guess  it  must  have  been 
about  three  o'clock — and  all  at  once  when  I 
struck  my  pick  in  the  bottom  it  sounded  holler 
I  spoke  to  my  brother  about  it  and  he  tried  it, 
and,  sure  enough,  it  sounded  holler  agin.  We 
thought  we  was  a  comin'  to  a  river  and  so  we  got 
down  and  listened  and  what  do  you  reckon 
we  heard?" 

"Running  water,"  said  everybody. 

"No,  sir!"  said  Bill,  "No,  sir!  I  wish  it 
had  a  been;  but  I'm  dad  blasted  if  we  didn't 
hear  people  a  talking  on  the  other  side  of  the 
yeth." 

"What  were  they  saying,  Bill?" 

"How  could  I  tell?  They  wasn't  like  us, 
and  was  a  talkin',  some  sort  of  outlandish 
jingle." 

"Well,  you  dug  right  through  on  to  them, 
did  you,  Bill?" 

"No  siree.  You  wouldn't  ketch  me  doing 
no  big  fool  thing  like  that.  I  couldn't  under- 


LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES  283 

stand  a  word  they  said,  but  I  could  tell  by 
the  way  they  was  a  ravin'  around  that  they 
was  all-fired  mad  about  somethin'  and  I  didn't 
want  to  drop  down  on  'em  when  they  was 
mad.  They  might  a  killed  a  feller." 

"No  sir.  We  just  pulled  the  rope  that  rung 
the  bell  for  'em  to  haul  us  up  and  they  did. 
It  took  an  awful  long  time  though  for  'em  to 
get  us  up." 

"What  did  the  man  do  with  the  well, 
Bill?" 

"Filled  it  up,  of  -  course.  Me  and  my 
brother  got  the  job  and  made  a  lot  of  money 
out  of  it;  for  you  can  just  bet  they  was  acres 
of  dirt  piled  around  thar." 

I  never  knew  Bill  to  get  beaten  at  his  own 
game  but  once  and  then  a  mean  advantage 
was  taken  of  him.  He  had  a  neighbor  named 
Sim — something.  Sim  was  industrious  but  full 
of  fun  and  mischief.  He  and  a  neighbor  were 
"'swapping  work"  in  corn  planting  time.  On 
this  particular  occasion  the  neighbor  was  over 
at  Sim's  helping  him  put  in  his  corn.  Bill 
Whittington  had  a  habit  of  going  around  where 
his  neighbors  were  at  work  and  detaining  and 
entertaining  them  with  his  lies.  Along  in  the 
afternoon  as  Sim  and  his  neighbor  came  to  the 
end  of  the  row  whom  should  they  see  but  Bill, 
sitting  on  the  fence?  They  had  been  pushing 
things  all  day  and  were  tired,  so  they  sat  down 
for  awhile  and  Bill  at  once  began  to  tell  lies. 
The  subject  of  strong  men — great  fighters  and 
wrestlers — happened  to  be  the  theme.  Bill 
had  told  of  some  marvelous  feats  of  strength 
performed  by  himself,  his  brother  or  some 
relative. 


284  LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 

"I  have  seen  stronger  men  than  that," 
remarked  Sim 

"You  have?"  said  Bill  in  surprise,  "what 
did  they  do?" 

"It  was  in  Kentucky,"  Sim  began,  "when 
I  was  growing  up.  There  was  a  man  in  our 
county  that  they  called  'the  bully.'  He  had 
thrown  down  and  whipped  every  man  who 
laid  any  claims  to  strength  in  our  county.  He 
was  'the  bully*  of  the  county  and  no  man  lived 
there  who  dared  to  meet  him.  There  was 
just  such  another  man  in  the  second  county 
from  us.  He  had  cleaned  out  everybody  in 
his  county.  The  friends  of  those  two  bullies 
had  been  at  work  for  a  long  time  trying  to 
arrange  a  'pitched  battle'  .between  them.  At 
last  they  got  it  arranged  and  the  day  set  for 
the  two  men  to  meet  in  the  county  that  inter- 
vened. They  were  to  meet  at  the  county  seat 
on  a  certain  day  and  the  thing  got  advertised 
all  over  the  country  for  several  counties  around. 
Expectation  was  on  tiptoe  and  everybody  was 
going  to  see  the  fight.  All  the  male  population 
of  our  county  went  over  to  back  our  man. 
They  arrived  at  the  town  where  the  fight  was 
to  take  place  the  evening  before  and  camped 
out.  The  other  fellow  and  his  county  men 
camped  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  town  and 
the  people  from  other  counties  were  camped 
all  around  for  two  or  three  miles.  It  was  like 
a  big  army.  Oh,  there  was  an  awful  lot  of 
excitement.  Everybody  was  up  and  had  break- 
fast bright  and  early  so  as  to  get  into  town 
and  get  a  good  place  where  the  fight  was  to 
be.  The  time  was  arranged  when  both  should 
start  into  town  so  that  they  should  meet  at  the 


LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 


285 


Court  House  about  the  same  time.  Our  man 
took  the  lead  and  walked  into  town  and  our 
whole  county  followed  him.  The  other  did  the 
same.  As  they  went  in  our  man  began  to 
bellow  like  a  bull  and  the  other  fellow  heard 
him.  Then  you  ought  to  have  heard  the 
other  fellow  bellow.  Why  it  just  cracked  the 
window  lights.  That  made  our  man  mad 


O.IJ-* 

AND  THREW  HIM  CLEAR  OVER  THE  COURT  HOUSE 

and  then  you  may  just  reckon  that  he  did 
bellow.  The  chimneys  began  to  fall  down. 
When  the  other  fellow  heard  him  he  was  just 
opposite  where  an  old  mill  had  burned  down 
and  the  mill  stones  were  lying  there.  He  was  so 
mad  that  he  just  grabbed  a  mill  stone  in  each 
hand  and  came  up  to  the  Public  Square  knock- 
ing them  together  over  his  head.  His  men 
were  yelling  and  our  fellows  began  to  feel  bad. 
Just  then  our  man  came  up  to  where  a  farmer 
was  exhibiting  an  imported  English  bull  that 
weighed  twenty-one  hundred  pounds.  He  had 
seen  the  other  fellow  knocking  the  mill  stones 


286  LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 

over  his  head  and  he  was  roaring  mad.  He 
jumped  at  this  bull  and  before  anybody  had 
time  to  think  he  grabbed  him  by  the  tail  and 
just  jerked  him  up  and  swung  him  around  his 
head  three  or  four  times  and  threw  him  clear 
over  the  court  house  and  knocked  off  the 
second  story  of  a  saloon  on  the  other  side." 

Then  Sim  paused. 

Bill  had  been  listening  with  rapt  attention 
all  the  time,  and  you  couldn't  have  told  by  any 
movement,  nod  or  gesture  that  he  made,  but 
what  he  really  believed  it  all.  This  is  the 
courtesy  that  a  big  liar  always  pays  another 
big  liar.  Sim  stood  up  and  didn't  seem  to  be 
going  on  with  the  story.  Bill  grew  anxious, 
and  asked, 

"What  did  they  do  then,  Sim?" 

"Well,  a  mule  got  between  them  and  me 
just  then  and  I  couldn't  see  'em,"  said  Sim. 
"Git  up  Ball,"  said  he  to  his  old  horse  and 
away  he  went  across  the  field  "laying  off," 
his  furrow. 

They  left  Bill  sitting  in  the  corner  of  the 
fence  almost  paralyzed  with  surprise.  In  all  his 
lying  life  no  man  had  ever  treated  him  so  before. 

After  a  while  he  seemed  to  recover  a  little 
and  he  slowly  got  up  from  his  sitting  position. 
He  climbed  on  the  fence  in  a  bewildered  sort 
of  stagger;  then  looked  wistfully  after  Sim  and 
the  neighbor  for  a  moment,  slid  off  the  fence 
and  went  shambling  away.  He  was  so  dis- 
gusted that  he  actually  absented  himself  from 
society  for  two  weeks. 

We  meet  this  kind  of  man  everywhere,  and 
he  is  not  confined  to  any  particular  stratum 
in  society. 


LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES  287 

There  used  to  be  a  barber  in  the  town 
where  I  lived  who  was  one  of  the  worst  of  the 
boasting  liars  that  I  ever  met.  His  name  was 
Jack.  Jack  used  to  soothe  me  with  his  mar- 
velous lies  while  shaving  me.  Jack  had  one 
abiding  weakness  besides  his  lying  and  that 
was  that  he  harbored  the  delusion  that  he  had 
once  been  a  government  scout,  a  detective  and 
finally  a  Chicago  policeman.  He  had  been 
three  times  captured  by  the  Confederates  dur- 
ing the  late  war  (it  is  doubtful  whether  he  was 
in  the  war  at  all),  had  been  tried,  condemned 
to  be  shot — the  hour  set.  Each  time,  by  some 
marvelous  interposition  or  some  shrewd  act  of 
his  own,  he  had  escaped.  I  used  to  listen 
with  a  great  deal  of  quiet  attention  to  Jack's 
lies  and,  occasionally  put  in  a  question  which 
would  compel  Jack  to  tell  more  lies  which  he 
used  as  a  sort  of  " rip-rap"  to  preserve  the 
foundation  of  the  original  lie.  I  used  to  speak 
of  Jack's  wonderful  lies  in  the  presence  of  my 
little  boys,  until  one  of  them  conceived  a  desire 
to  hear  Jack  in  his  great  role.  I  took  him  down 
with  me  one  afternoon  when  I  was  going  to 
be  shaved.  He  pulled  up  a  chair  near  where  I 
sat  while  being  shaved  and  seemed  to  take  a 
great  deal  of  interest  in  watching  Jack  work. 

I  knew  how  to  set  Jack  off.  It  was  much 
easier  than  work  I  had  to  do  every  day.  All 
I  had  to  do  was  to  make  a  remark,  a  sugges- 
tion, or  ask  a  question. 

There  was  a  funeral  procession  passing  the 
shop  and  I  remarked  that  Judge  So-and-so 
was  having  a  very  largely  attended  funeral.  I 
knew  that  would  be  sufficient  and  so  it  proved 
to  be. 


288  LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 

"Large!"  said  Jack,  in  astonishment.  "Do 
you  call  that  a  large  funeral?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "that  is  quite  a  large  funeral 
for  this  town," — and  so  it  was. 

"Oh,  but  you  ought  to  have  seen  Rafferty's 
funeral  in  Chicago,"  said  Jack. 

Jack  was  getting  up  steam  and  the  machinery 
was  beginning  to  move.  It  would  only  take  a 
few  questions  to  set  him  running  in  good  style. 

Who  was  Rafferty?  What  did  he  do  to 
entitle  him  to  such  a  remembrance? 

Jack  steadied  himself,  strapped  his  razor, 
and  started  in. 

"Rafferty  had  once  been  on  the  'force'  but 
had  been  dismissed  for  drinking,  or  something 
else,  and,  while  he  was  very  brave  and  had  once 
been  very  popular,  he  had  got  to  drinking  and 
had  become  a  bad  and  dangerous  man.  One 
day  while  bordering  on  a  fit  of  'tremens'  he 
had  run  amuck  at  a  saloon  and  had  either 
stabbed  or  shot  two  or  three  men.  One  had 
surely  died  and  perhaps  two — I  forget  now, 
but  Rafferty  made  his  escape." 

Jack  continued: 

"I  was  on  the  secret  force  at  the  time  and 
the  Chief  told  me  to  take  one  man  and  go  out 
in  a  certain  direction,  along  a  certain  line  of 
railroad.  I  went  out  about  four  miles  and 
couldn't  hear  anything  of  him.  I  sat  down  on 
the  end  of  a  tie  and  was  thinking  as  to  what  I 
should  do,  when  a  farmer's  wagon  came  along. 
I  asked  the  farmer  if  he  had  seen  such  a  man  as 
Rafferty — describing  him.  The  farmer  said 
that  he  hadn't  seen  any  such  person;  but,  there 
was  something  in  his  manner  which,  to  my 
experienced  eye,  made  me  suspicious." 


LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES  289 

"I  presume  that  a  person  like  me  never 
would  have  noticed  it,  would  he,  Jack?"  I 
asked. 

"Naw,"  said  Jack,  "You'd  a  let  him  go; 
but,  I  went  up  to  the  wagon  and  looked  in  and 
there  lay  Rafferty  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon 
bed.  As  soon  as  he  saw  me  he  threw  up  his 
hands  and  said : 

"'It's  all  right,  Jack,  old  boy;  I  give  up, 
for  I  know  it's  no  use  to  resist,  but  there  ain't 
another  man  in  Chicago  that  can  take  me.'" 

"He  would  have  resisted  me?"  I  sug- 
gested. 

"Resisted  you!"  said  Jack  with  a  flavor  of 
contempt  in  his  voice,  "He  would  have  killed 
you  before  you  could  have  cocked  your  pistol." 

Thus  encouraged,  Jack  went  on: 

"We  took  him  back  to  town  and  put  him 
in  jail.  There  was  an  awful  prejudice  against 
him  along  a  certain  class,  but  still  he  had  lots 
of  friends.  He  lay  in  jail  a  long  time.  Finally 
his  case  came  up  to  trial.  He  had  three  of  the 
best  criminal  lawyers  of  Chicago  for  his  counsel 

with  Bill  O'B at  their  head.     They  hung  the 

jury  and  there  was  a  long  wait  and  then  an- 
other trial  and  another  hung  jury.  This  was 
repeated  the  third  time  and  then  the  prosecuting 
attorney  took  a  change  of  venue  to  Milwaukee, 
Wisconsin.  There  the  jury  found  him  guilty 
of  murder  in  the  first  degree.  The  day  was  set 
for  him  to  be  hung  and  they  brought  him  back 
to  Chicago  to  hang  him.  By  this  time  the 
popular  indignation  had  about  died  out  and 
Rafferty's  friends  were  hot.  They  appealed  to 
the  Governor,  but  it  did  no  good.  They  finally 
hung  him  and  the  day  was  set  for  the  funeral. 


290  LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 

There  were  seven  hundred  big  carriages  and 
eighteen  hundred  buggies  in  the  procession." 

I  do  not  know  that  I  give  the  number  of 
carriages  and  buggies  just  as  Jack  gave  them, 
but  I  remember  that  I  went  home  and,  with 
the  assistance  of  my  little  son,  figured  up  the 
length  of  the  procession.  By  assuming  that 
each  team  and  vehicle  covered  a  certain  number 
of  feet,  and,  allowing  so  many  feet  between 
each,  it  made  the  procession  a  little  over  twenty- 
seven  miles  long.  At  the  ordinary  funeral  pace 
it  would  have  taken  the  procession  two  days 
to  pass  a  given  point. 

"Brush  here,"  yelled  Jack,  and  he  no  doubt, 
told  equally  as  big  a  lie  to  the  next  customer. 
Jack  was  an  artist. 

Every  grade  of  humanity — educated  and 
uneducated,  rich  and  poor — has  its  liar.  The 
boasting  lies  only  seem  the  more  ridiculous 
when  coming  from  a  man  like  Bill  Whittington 
— the  Branch- Water  man — who  seems  too 
trifling  and  unimportant  to  do  any  of  the  things 
which  he  claims  to  have  done. 

I-  was  called  to  see  the  family  of  a  wealthy 
farmer  once  with  whom  I  had  only  a  slight  ac- 
quaintance and  of  whom  I  had  heard  very 
little.  I  remained  all  night.  There  were  sev- 
eral people  at  his  house  besides  the  family,  and, 
as  the  patient  was  resting  well  and  in  no  danger, 
we  all  gathered  in  the  capacious  sitting  room 
and  talked  unreservedly  about  anything  and 
everything  that  came  up.  The  old  farmer 
began  by  telling  about  his  remarkable  shooting; 
of  how  he  had  "taken  fellows  down"  who 
came  out  from  the  city  to  shoot.  He  killed 
birds  on  the  wing  with  the  rifle  after  they  had 


LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES  291 

missed  with  the  shot  gun,  and  had  put  twelve 
shots  in  succession,  with  a  colt's  revolver, 
through  an  inch  auger  hole,  at  a  distance  of 
forty  yards. 

Here  I  began  to  doubt.  The  subject  changed 
to  horses  and  the  question  of  trotters  and  fast 
records  came  up.  He  stated  positively  that  he 
brought  a  colt  from  Tennessee,  when  he  came 
to  Missouri,  which  he  trained  himself,  and 
which  trotted  a  mile  in  1.14.  This  was  at  the 
time  when  Dexter's  2.17  was  the  fastest  re- 
corded time.  I  was  posted  on  the  trotting 
question,  and  so  asked  the  old  gentleman  if  he 
was  not  mistaken — wasn't  it  3.14?  He  was 
indignant  in  a  moment. 

"Don't  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about? 
Didn't  I  lay  the  line  that  measured  the  ground  ? 
Didn't  I  hold  the  watch  when  the  horse  made 
the  record?" 

I  apologized  and  went  to  bed,  convinced 
that  my  new  patron  was  a  gifted,  able  and 
monstrous  liar,  as  well  as  one  of  the  best  of 
husbands,  fathers  and  neighbors,  however  in- 
consistent this  statement  may  seem  to  some  of 
my  readers. 

"Do  doctors  lie?" 

Well,  yes,  occasionally.  That  is  to  say, 
natural  liars  sometimes  study  medicine.  The 
liar  gets  into  the  medical  profession,  as  he  gets 
into  all  professions  and  trades.  Heaven  is, 
perhaps,  the  only  place  where  the  liar  can  not 
enter,  and,  I  am  led  to  hope  that  some  of  those 
good-natured,  big-hearted  and  harmless  liars  may 
enter  even  there.  The  liar  spoken  of  in  the 
scriptures  may  be  the  man  who  tells  lies  that  do 
harm  and  make  mischief. 


292  LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 

When  you  do  meet  a  doctor  who  is  a  liar 
(and  I  am  proud  to  say  that  a  somewhat  ex- 
tended and  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
profession  leads  me  to  the  declaration  that  the 
profession  of  medicine  has  as  few  liars  as  any 
other)  but,  I  was  about  to  say,  when  you  do 
meet  a  doctor  who  lies,  he  generally  takes  it 
out  in  telling  lies  about  the  wonderful  things  he 
has  done  in  the  fields  of  medicine  and  surgery. 

A  young  doctor  in  hunt  of  a  place  stopped  in 
my  town,  a  few  years  ago,  and  made  my  office 
his  lounging  place  for  a  week.  I  was  led  to 
suspect,  from  some  statements  he  made,  that 
he  was  probably  not  an  ardent  devotee  of  the 
truth;  but  as  our  acquaintance  was  short  I 
had  no  chance  to  verify  my  suspicions.  He 
settled  in  a  small  town  only  a  short  distance 
from  me  and  only  a  few  weeks  after  he  was 
located  I  met  him  on  the  street  in  my  town  in 
a  slightly  intoxicated  condition.  I  asked  him 
how  he  was  getting  along  in  his  new  situation. 

"Oh,  everything  is  booming.  No  trouble 
at  all  about  getting  practice;  had  a  couple  of 
surgical  operations  a  week  ago  in  which  I 
would  have  liked  to  have  had  your  assistance, 
but  didn't  have  time  to  send  for  you." 

I  asked: 

"What  were  the  operations?" 

"One  was  a  disarticulation  at  the  hip  joint 
and  the  other  was  an  ovariotomy.  Both  cases 
are  doing  well  and  are  progressing  rapidly 
toward  recovery." 

I  asked  him  who  assisted  him  and  he  ans- 
wered : 

"Two  old  women  in  both  cases." 

He  didn't  even  own  an  amputating  case. 


LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES  293 

He  lied  himself  out  of  that  town  in  just  nine 
weeks. 

One  man,  who  was  otherwise  a  good  fellow, 
told  me  of  having  performed  the  Cesarean  Sec- 
tion in  a  lonely  cabin  without  professional  help, 
at  midnight  and  with  no  other  instruments  than 
a  pocket  case,  and  saved  both  mother  and  child. 
He  would  hot  even  open  an  ordinary  boil,  nor 
lance  a  felon,  and  yet  he  desired  to  be  consid- 
ered a  surgeon.  This  desire  to  be  a  surgeon 
by  men  who  do  not  know  anatomy  and  who 
have  no  mechanical  tact,  is  the  one  crowning 
weakness  of  the  profession.  It  is  better,  how- 
ever, never  to  attempt  a  grave  operation  when 
you  are  not  qualified,  and  just  take  it  out  in 
lying  about  it,  than  it  is  to  attempt  it,  do  a 
bungling  job  and  then  feel  compelled  to  lie 
about  it.  There  is  a  choice  even  in  the  kind 
of  lies  a  man  ought  to  tell.  Lying  on  the  safe 
side  is  best. 

The  war  of  the  Rebellion  turned  out  a  great 
many  of  this  class  of  surgeons  at  its  close.  It 
is  true  that  there  were  many  good  surgeons  in 
both  armies.  But  there  were  a  great  many 
who  learned  to  cut  off  arms,  legs,  toes  and 
fingers — and  sometimes  cut  them  off  when  they 
might  have  been  saved,  I  fear — and  most  of 
this  class  came  home  full  fledged  surgeons — in 
their  own  minds.  I  remember  that  it  was  a  very 
common  thing,  just  after  the  war,  to  see  this 
appended  to  a  doctor's  card  or  newspaper  ad- 
vertisement: "Special  attention  given  to  sur- 
gery;" and  this  by  a  man  who  did  not  know  a 
lipoma  from  a  carcinoma,  and  who  could  not  tell 
the  differential  diagnostic  signs  between  a  dis- 
location at  the  hip  joint  and  a  fracture  of  the 


294  LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 

upper  third  of  the  thigh  bone.  Some  of  these 
men  did  a  great  deal  of  mischief  in  their  surg- 
ical pretensions,  and  it  has  taken  the  twenty- 
five  years  that  have  elapsed  since  the  war  to 
demonstrate  in  many  such  cases  that  there  is 
a  decided  difference  between  a  butcher  and  a 
surgeon. 

One  of  these  would-be  surgeons  told  me  once 
that  while  in  the  army,  and  just  after  a  battle, 
he  came  across  a  soldier  lying  on  the  roadside 
and  bleeding  dangerously  from  a  wound  about 
the  face.  It  was  of  a  character  that  satisfied 
him  at  once  that  nothing  less  than  ligating  the 
common  carotid  artery  would  do  any  good.  He 
was  without  assistance  of  any  kind;  but,  he 
got  down  and,  single-handed  and  alone,  without 
help  or  anaesthetics,  he  ligated  the  common 
carotid.  He  sent  some  soldiers  to  see  about  the 
man  and  then,  in  the  multiplicity  of  important 
duties,  forgot  the  case.  Six  days  afterward  he 
met  the  man  carrying  his  gun  and  doing  duty. 

There  was  a  pause  at  this  point  in  the 
story.  I  suggested  that  the  appearance  of  the 
atmosphere  indicated  a  change  of  the  weather. 
This  was  dangerous  ground  too;  for  I  was 
really  afraid  that  he  would  tell  a  lie  about  the 
weather.  But  he  didn't.  I  think  he  took  the 
hint,  however. 

I  was  sitting  in  my  office  a  few  years  ago 
with  an  old  physician  who  was  looking  for  a 
location,  and  four  other  gentlemen,  when  the 
question  of  animal  ligatures  was  mentioned, 
and  the  visiting  brother  told  the  following  re- 
markable story: 

"When  I  was  about  twenty-one  years  of 
age  and  just  out  of  school,  and,  before  I  studied 


LIARS  AND  "THEIR  LIES  295 

medicine,  I  manifested  some  weakness  of  my 
lungs.  'Upon  the  advice  of  our  family  physi- 
cian my  father  determined  to  send  me  south. 
In  order  to  make  the  expense  as  light  as  possible 
and  that  I  might  improve  the  faster,  he  pro- 
cured a  position  for  me  with  some  Government 
surveyors.  I  improved  from  the  start  and  was 
soon  strong  and  hearty.  After  a  while  we  got 
far  out  from  the  settlements  about  one  hundred 
miles  west  of  where  the  city  of  Waco  now 
stands.  One  day  a  companion  and  I  were  out 
hunting — he  being  on  foot  and  I  on  a  pony. 
We  became  separated  along  in  the  afternoon, 
and,  while  wandering  around  looking  for  game, 
I  heard  the  report  of  a  gun  about  four  hundred 
yards  away.  I  galloped  up  to  the  top  of  the 
nearest  hill  in  the  direction  of  the  sound.  When 
I  reached  a  point  where  I  could  command  a 
view  of  the  surrounding  prairie  I .  beheld  my 
comrade,  about  two  hundred  yards  away,  en- 
gaged in  a  hand  to  hand  fight  with  a  stalwart 
Indian. 

I  put  my  horse  to  his  full  speed  and  went 
toward  them.  I  soon  took  in  the  situation. 
They  had  met  and  the  Indian  had  made  some 
threatening  or  warlike  demonstration  and  had 
drawn  my  comrade's  fire.  He  had  fallen,  or 
dodged  a  bad  shot,  and  then  attacked  him  with 
a  large  knife.  The  contest  which  I  witnessed 
consisted  simply  in  adroit  efforts  of  the  Indian 
to  stab  him  and  in  desperate  efforts  of  my  com- 
rade to  keep  him  off  and  avoid  his  blows.  I 
yelled  at  the  top  of  my  voice  as  I  went  toward 
them  and  the  Indian,  hearing  me,  gave  a  last 
deperate  lunge  at  him  and  then  ran  away.  I 
fired  at  him  as  he  ran,  but  missed  him. 


296  LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 

"I  soon  saw  that  my  comrade  was  badly 
cut,  and  upon  examination  I  found  a  deep  cut 
in  his  left  side,  about  six  inches  in  length, 
through  which  the  gashed  intestines  were  pro- 
truding. I  tried  to  put  him  on  the  pony  but 
he  was  too  weak  to  ride  alone.  I  then  tried 
to  get  him  up  before  me  but  could  not  do  it. 
I  finally  got  him  across  the  saddle  (head  on  one 
side  and  heels  on  the  other)  and  lashed  him  on 
with  the  lariat.  I  led  the  pony,  and  after  a  weary 
tramp,  landed  him  in  the  camp  about  three 
miles  distant.  Arriving  there  a  consultation 
was  held.  As  we  were  so  far  from  ci,:iization 
we  decided  to  send  to  a  Catholic  Mission  ninety 
miles  away  for  a  priest  who  had  learned  some- 
thing of  surgery  while  preparing  for  the  office 
of  a  Missionary  priest.  It  was  our  only  hope 
for  we  had  no  idea  as  to  where  we  could  find 
a  surgeon. 

Two  men  were  sent  on  foot  who  were 
instructed  to  do  most  of  their  traveling  at 
night  and  their  sleeping  in  the  day  time  on 
account  of  the  Indians.  We  took  care  of  the 
wounded  man — gave  him  water,  fed  him  and 
kept  the  flies  off  him,  as  best  we  could,  while 
the  boys  were  gone.  On  the  fourth  day  they 
returned  with  the  faithful  old  priest.  After 
a  little  rest  the  father  examined  the  wounded 
man  and  then  said  to  me: 

"My  son,  go  down  to  the  dry  branch,  which 
we  crossed  as  we  came  here,  and  turn  over  the 
flat  rocks,  which  you  will  see  in  the  bed  of  the 
stream,  and  under  these  rocks  you  will  find 
a  great  number  of  large  bugs — a  kind  of  beetle, 
with  horns;  gather  a  number  of  those  in  a  tin 
bucket  and  bring  them  to  me." 


LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 


297 


"I  did  as  he  directed,  finding  a  great  number 
of  large  beetles  with  large,  lateral  horns  on 
their  heads.  I  brought  him  several  dozen.  By 
the  time  I  returned  he  had  taken  a  cloth  and 
warm  water,  and  after  picking  the  grass  and 
weeds  off  the  wounded  man's  bowels,  had 
washed  them  quite  clean.  He  then  caught  up 
the  wounded  intestine,  and,  instead  of  trying 
to  put  the  cut  edges  together  he  laid  the  two 


"HE  THREW  THE  BIG  END  AWAY  AND  REACHED 
FOR  ANOTHER  BUG" 

sides  of  the  cut  intestine  side  by  side,  as  you 
would  bring  the  edges  of  your  coat  sleeve  and 
your  cuff  together.  He  then  called  for  a  bug 
and,  taking  it  gently  by  the  body  he  straddled 
the  two  horns  over  the  doubled  bowel.  He 
then  gave  the  bug  a  squeeze  which  irritated  it 
and  caused  it  to  clasp  its  horns  together.  The 
horns  penetrated  the  bowel  from  side  to  side. 
He  then,  by  a  slight  twisting  motion,  wrung 


298  LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES 

the  bug  in  two  at  the  small  part  of  its  waist, 
threw  the  big  end  away  and  reached  for  another 
bug.  He  proceeded  in  the  same  way — putting 
his  stitches  about  half  an  inch  apart — until  he 
had  closed  a  cut  in  the  splenic  flexure  of  the 
colon  about  four  inches  long.  He  then  re- 
turned the  bowels  and  closed  the  wound  in  the 
abdominal  wall  with  flax  thread  in  a  common 
sewing  needle.  The  fellow  never  had  a  bad 
symptom  and  was  out  carrying  the  chain  in 
about  six  or  eight  weeks." 

A  profound  stillness  prevailed  after  this 
story  was  finished,  and  the  old  man  seemed  to 
grow  restless  and  got  up  and  went  out.  Silence 
still  prevailed  until  he  was  out  of  ear  shot,  when 
all  looked  at  each  other  and  then  burst  into 
uncontrollable  laughter.  One  wittily  suggested 
that  whatever  else  might  be  claimed  for  the 
story  it  could  not  be  said  that  "there  were  no 
bugs  on  it." 

In  considering  the  subject  of  liars  it  has 
occurred  to  me  that  there  ought  to  be  an  asylum 
or  a  reformatory  for  them.  Why  not?  The 
disposition  to  lie  is  evidently  a  disease  with 
some  men.  It  is  true  if  a  man  tells  a  lie  just 
for  mischief  or  to  conceal  a  crime  then  we  can 
see  the  motive.  But  there  is  no  motive  in  the 
boasting  liar's  action.  I  have  seen  these 
fellows  when  they  just  seemed  to  lie  involun- 
tarily. Now,  if  we  could  have  a  reformatory 
for  these  men  great  good  might  be  done.  It 
is  true  it  seems  that  their  lying  does  little  or 
no  harm.  But  it  does  harm  to  the  liar.  No 
matter  how  good  a  fellow  the  boasting  liar  may 
be  (and  I  have  known  them  to  possess  most 
excellent  qualities  as  husbands,  fathers  and 


LIARS  AND  THEIR  LIES  299 

neighbors)  he  is  always  in  more  or  less  dis- 
grace; and,  besides  this,  he  may  transmit  it  to 
his  offspring;  and  a  transmitted  diathesis  or 
tendency  may  be  made  stronger  in  those  to 
whom  it  is  transmitted  than  it  was  in  the  trans- 
mitter, and  these  tendencies  may  be,  and  are, 
modified,  no  doubt,  so  that  the  hereditary  liar 
may  develop  into  a  mischievous  and  harmful 
liar. 

We  might  send  these  people  to  a  reforma- 
tory and  send  along  with  them  their  histories, 
in  which  might  be  included  some  of  their  most 
prominent  and  unreasonable  lies.  Classes 
might  be  formed  of  the  different  kinds  and 
grades  of  liars;  and,  at  certain  hours  on  certain 
days,  one  class  could  be  assembled  for  a  lecture. 
Here  a  professor  of  Truth  could  lecture  them 
on  the  enormity  of  the  sin  of  lying;  could  refer 
to  the  great  truths  from  great  men  which  had 
lifted  mankind  up  and  done  them  so  much 
good;  and  to  the  great  lies  of  great  liars  which 
have  held  humanity  back  and  done  it  so  much 
harm.  The  Devil  could  be  referred  to,  by  the 
professor,  as  the  Father  of  Liars  with  excellent 
effect,  and  finally,  he  could  read  to  the  class 
some  of  the  lies  of  some  member  (which  had 
been  sent  up  as  a  part  of  his  history)  and 
comment  on  it  before  his  face. 

The  greatest  trouble  that  I  can  see  about 
an  institution  of  this  kind  is,  that  I  fear  that 
there  would  be  so  many  relapses  amongst  those 
who  had  served  out  their  first  terms  and  been 
sent  home  that  it  would  tend  to  discourage  the 
professors. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE 

REASONS  FOR  THE  CODE — RELATIONS  OF  DOC- 
TOR AND  PATIENT — THE  NEW  COMER  AND 
THE  EMERGENCY  CASE — SMITH  AND  THE 
CAT  SKIN  POULTICE — JONES,  HOT  CORN  AND 
BURNT  FEATHERS — "OLD  PILL  GARLIC "  AND 
THE  DYING  GIRL. 

;HERE  is  noth- 
i  n  g  connected 
with  our  pro- 
fession concern- 
ing which  there 
is  so  much 
dense  ignorance 
among  the 
masses  as  the  "Code  of 
Ethics."  People  as  a 
rule,  both  the  ignorant 
and  the  intelligent,  regard 
it  very  much  in  the  same  light  that  they  would 
the  constitution  and  by-laws  which  should  govern 
a  band  of  robbers.  They  look  upon  it  as  being 
the  fundamental  law  which  governs  a  class  of 
men  who  are  banded  together  against  society, 
and,  in  some  way,  this  law  is  the  expressed 
intention  of  the  manner  in  which  the  con- 
spiracy is  to  be  carried  out.  The  organization 
of  medical  societies  and  their  active  work  only 
shows  the  active  workings  of  the  conspirators 
under  this  law. 


CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE          301 

So  deeply  rooted  is  this  idea  in  the  public 
mind  that  not  a  few  of  the  quacks  whom  I 
have  known — quacks  who  knew  more  about 
the  prejudice  of  people  against  "code  doctors" 
than  they  did  about  practice — have  taken  the 
pains  to  proclaim  through  the  newspapers  and 
in  cards  and  pamphlets  that  the  "doctor  does 
not  belong  to  the  medical  societies  and  is  not 
bound  by  the  Code  of  Ethics."  Many  men 
have  temporarily  gained  a  good  practice  by 
pandering  to  this  prejudice. 

Now,  candidly,  is  the  prejudice  founded  in 
reason  ? 

I  answer,  no;  and  I  am  prepared  to  further 
assert  that,  if  the  people  generally  understood 
the  Code  as  every  good  physician  ought  to 
understand  it,  they  would  all  be  strong  advo- 
cates of  it. 

They  would  advocate  it  for  the  very  reason 
that,  while  the  Code  is  intended  to  hold  doctors 
to  a  strict  accountability  for  their  conduct 
toward  each  other,  it  holds  them  just  as  firmly 
to  a  strict  accountability  for  their  conduct 
toward  their  patients  and  the  public  generally. 

The  Code  is  to  the  doctor  the  highest  law 
in  the  universe  outside  of  the  Bible,  and,  if  he 
does  not  recognize  the  Bible,  then  it  is  the 
highest  law.  What  the  discipline  is  to  the 
Methodist,  the  Confession  of  Faith  to  the 
Calvinist,  and  the  Articles  of  Faith  to  the 
Baptist,  the  Code  is  to  the  doctor.  It  is  the 
expressed  law  which  is  to  govern  him  in  his 
conduct  toward  his  brethren,  his  patients  and 
the  public.  It  may  be  urged  that  a  gentleman 
does  not  need  the  Code.  This  is  true.  Neither 
do  the  healthy  need  a  physician;  nor  do  the 


302          CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE 

saints  in  heaven  need  a  Savior.  Unfortunately 
for  our  profession,  we  were  all  men  before  we 
were  doctors.  Men  as  varied  in  our  instincts, 
education,  intelligence  and  desires  as  any  other 
class  of  men.  If  we  could  make  the  ideal 
doctor  first  and  then  make  the  man  to  fit  him 
then  we  would  need  no  Code.  Unfortunately 
for  doctors,  some  of  them  are  not  all  that  a 
doctor  should  be.  The  opportunities  offered 
to  take  advantage  of  a  fellow  practitioner,  and 
especially  to  take  advantage  of  and  to  cheat 
a  credulous  and  confiding  public,  are  so  many 
that  many  a  doctor,  not  morally  strong,  but 
naturally  weak  and  avaricious,  takes  advantage 
of  them. 

For  such  the  Code  is  made. 

We  can  not  compel  them  to  accept  it  any 
more  than  you  can  compel  a  man  to  be  a 
Mason,  an  Old  Fellow  or  a  Christian.  But  you 
can  refuse  a  man  Masonic  or  Christian  fellow- 
ship if  he  is  neither  and  we  can  refuse  a  doctor 
our  fellowship  if  he  refuses  to  be  one  of  us  in 
spirit  by  subscribing  to  the  fundamental  law 
which  holds  us  all  to  a  strict  accountability 
for  our  conduct  as  medical  men  and  gentle- 
men. 

And  yet  we  are  blamed  for  this  every  day. 
Intelligent  people  who  would  never  think  of 
recognizing  a  man  as  a  Christian  who  does  not 
subscribe  to  the  fundamental  law  of  Christians 
— the  Bible — will  abuse  and  blame  us  for 
refusing  to  recognize  and  affiliate  with  a  man 
who  publishes  his  condemnation  of  our  funda- 
mental law — the  Code. 

"And  yet  the  doctors  quarrel,"  I  am  an- 
swered. 


CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE          303 

Yes  and  so  do  Christians;  so  do  Masons, 
so  do  everybody. 

Man  at  his  best  is  a  quarrelsome  creature. 
Of  all  the  creatures  that  live  he  is  most  jealous 
of  his  rights.  The  doctor  is,  perhaps,  the 
most  jealous  of  his  kind. 

The  question  is  often  asked  me, 

"Why  do  doctors  quarrel  more  than  other 
professional  men?" 

I  am  scarcely  willing  to  admit  that  they  do; 
but,  if  they  do  there  are  good  and  sufficient 
reasons  for  it.  There  are  good  and  sound 
reasons  at  the  bottom  of  all  puzzling  questions, 
if  we  can  only  get  at  them.  Let  us  see  what 
they  are  in  regard  to  doctors'  quarrels: 

Other  professional  and  business  men,  as  a 
rule,  have  only  a  commercial  interest  in  their 
clientele.  The  merchant  measures  his  goods 
across  the  counter  to  you,  is  glad  to  have  your 
custom — and  your  money,  and  if  he  sees  you 
enter  the  store  across  the  way  he  "does  not 
take  it  to  heart."  Some  one  else  comes  "from 
across  the  way"  and  takes  your  place.  The 
lawyer  writes  your  deeds,  examines  your  titles 
and  defends  you  in  court  and  the  next  wreek 
will  take  a  case  against  you  if  you  do  not  see 
him  first.  And  so  with  all  professions  and 
lines  of  business  except  ours.  We  occupy  a 
different  relation  to  our  patrons  from  that  of 
any  of  these.  We  are  brought  in  direct  con- 
tact with  the  family  in  a  relationship  the  most 
intimate  as  well  as  the  most  serious  and  sacred 
that  falls  to  the  lot  of  man. 

Suppose,  if  you  please,  that  I  have  done 
the  practice  of  a  family  for  fifteen  or  twenty 
years.  I  have  been  present  at  the  births  of 


304          CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE 

all  the  children  of  the  household,  have  taken 
them  through  their  teething,  the  measles, 
mumps,  whooping  cough  and  scarlatina.  I  have 
stood  by  the  mother  in  the  most  serious  times, 
when  a  mistake  or  bad  management  on  my 
part  would  have  left  a  helpless  household 
bereft  of  its  dearest  and  best  friend — the 
mother.  I  have  sat  night  after  night  in  the 
dangerous  illness  of  the  children  with  my 
finger  on  the  pulse  and  have  administered  the 
remedies  with  my  own  hand,  and  remained 
and  carefully  noted  their  effect.  The  mother 
and  father  hold  me  above  all  others  in  highest 
esteem  and  teach  the  little  ones  from  their 
first  lispings  to  believe  that  "Dockie"  is  the 
greatest  and  best  of  earth's  noblemen.  There 
is  nothing  in  that  household  too  good  for  me. 
The  little  ones  climb  upon  my  knee  without  fear 
and  ask  me  to  explain  all  about  the  mystery  of 
how,  when  and  where  I  found  them,  "when  oo 
bwought  me  to  mamma."  Is  there  nothing 
between  me  and  that  family,  think  you,  except- 
ing a  cold  business  relationship  and  the  com- 
mercial matter  of  fees?  Oh,  my  friend,  he  who 
thinks  so  knows  little  about  the  best  fees  that 
a  doctor  receives — the  love,  affection  and 
esteem  of  those  whom  he  has  helped  in  the 
direst  extremity  of  their  lives. 

Now,  just  here  a  fellow  comes  along  with  a 
plug  hat  and  chin  whiskers.  He  moves  in. 
He  is  one  of  those  fellows  "who  knows  so 
much  that  it  seems  to  make  him  unhappy." 

He  is  a  cousin  of  the  mother  or  a  remote 
relation  of  the  father;  or,  he  belongs  to  the 
same  church  that  they  do  or  is  a  member  of 
the  same  lodge  with  the  father.  He  is  one  of 


CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE         305 

those  ingratiating  fellows.  He  is  poor  and 
needy  and  anxious  to  do  practice  and  especially 
anxious  to  do  the  practice  of  this  very  family 
— thinks  he  ought  to  do  it,  for  they  are  his 
kin,  or  his  church  or  his  lodge  brethren  and 
sisters.  His  wife  plainly  tells  the  mother  of 
their  poverty  and  says  that,  "if  the  doctor 
don't  get  something  to  do  I  don't  know  what 
will  become  of  us." 

The  father  and  the  mother  talk  the  matter 
over  and  kindly  conclude  that  they  ought  to 
call  him  in — "when  there  ain't  much  the  mat- 
ter." 

I  thus  find  him  gradually  wedging  himsei* 
in  between  me  and  those  who  are  dear  to  me, 
and  who  hold  me  still  dearer.  Now,  in  spite 
of  his  poverty,  that  old  human  desire  to  uncere- 
moniously kick  him  besets  me.  I  can  not  be 
in  his  presence  without  feeling  the  ham- 
string muscles  of  my  right  leg  involuntarily 
contract. 

He  is  robbing  me  of  that  which  I  hold  above 
all  fees  and  above  all  else — the  love  and  con- 
fidence of  a  good  family — that  love  and  con- 
fidence fairly  won  on  the  battle-field  of  my 
profession  when  life  was  the  prize  for  which 
I  fought.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  doctors  quar- 
rel; more  especially  when  we  consider  the 
fact  that  all  doctors  are  "not  as  good  as  they 
ought  to  be?" 

Many  of  the  bitterest  quarrels  of  doctors 
arise  from  the  second  doctor  being  called  in 
an  emergency  while  the  regular  attendant  is 
absent. 

You  are  attending  a  case  and  you  leave 
town  to  see  another.  An  emergency  arises. 


306          CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE 

The  patient  is  taken  with  a  sudden  pain  in 
some  part  of  the  body — a  pain  which  has  not 
been  present  in  the  case  before — or  has  a  hemor- 
rhage or  faints.  The  family,  in  their  excite- 
ment, send  for  "anybody,"  which  is  a  bad  rule, 
for  "anybody"  is  not  always  competent.  They 
get  some  man  who  is  not  altogether  scrupulous 
and  who  is  angling  for  good  paying  families. 

He  comes. 

After  making  himself  as  agreeable  as  pos- 
sible he  gives  his  attention  to  the  patient.  •  He 
gets  the  history  of  the  case,  and  especially  the 
history  of  the  new  trouble,  and  is  informed  that 
you  are  attending  the  case. 

He  asks,  "What  does  the  doctor  (you)  say 
ails  the  patient?" 

He  is  answered  that  you  said  it  was  "  malarial 
fever."  He  says  not  a  word,  but  turns  his  face 
away  from  the  person  who  is  answering  his 
questions  and  smiles — simply  smiles  a  bland, 
incredulous  smile. 

Now,  it  does  not  seem  that  a  simple  smile 
ought  to  cause  any  trouble,  and  yet  there  is  a 
cause  for  a  big  war  and  the  expenditure  of 
millions  of  blood  and  treasure  in  that  smile. 

What  does  the  smile  do? 

It  simply  throws  doubt  on  your  ability  and 
your  diagnosis.  It  says,  as  plainly  as  signs  can 
say  it,  that  you  are  treating  the  patient  for 
something  he  hasn't  got,  and  that,  in  short, 
you  are  a  donkey  and  don't  know  what  you  are 
doing.  When  pressed  for  something  further  he, 
perhaps,  shrugs  his  shoulders  and  says, 

"Oh,  well,  madam,  I  wouldn't  like  to  say.' 
We  must  be  particular  about  these  little  things, 
you  know." 


CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE          307 

He  asks  what  you  are  giving  and  when 
shown  the  medicine  he  turns  his  head  away 
and  smiles  again.  This  adroit  fellow,  with 
two  smiles  which  cost  no  effort,  and  without 
saying  a  word,  has,  perhaps,  shaken  and 
almost  destroyed  a  confidence  which  you  have 
been  years  in  diligent  and  honest  effort  in  build- 
ing up.  When  you  hear  of  his  smiles  you 
momentarily  feel  like  a  murderer,  if  you  have 
any  temper — and  you  probably  have  if  you  are 
good  for  anything  and  belong  to  my  race. 

Consultations,  too,  are  often  the  cause  of 
quarrels.  There  is  a  disagreement.  It  may  be 
an  honest  disagreement,  but  it  leads  to  trouble. 
The  family,  in  some  way,  find  it  out — which 
they  should  never  be  permitted  to  do.  They 
find  it  out  and  the  consulting  physician  is 
sought  out  and  questioned.  If  he  is  an  honest 
man  and  knows  his  duty  he  will  not  talk.  But 
he  may  not  be  honest;  or  he  may  not  know 
his  duty.  At  any  rate  the  family  get  very 
different  ideas  from  the  two  men,  when  in 
fact,  they  ought  to  get  all  they  should  know 
from  the  family  physician  and  from  him  alone, 
as  he  is  the  one  to  give  the  family  all  directions, 
and  all  indeed  that  they  are  entitled  to  know. 
There  may  be  cases  where  the  calling  in  of  a 
third  man  is  necessary.  Under  such  circum- 
stances the  family  physician  may  be  permitted 
to  state  plainly  why  a  third  is  wanted. 

And  yet  consultations  are  very  necessary  in 
many  cases,  and  the  physician  should  be  the 
first  to  call  for  it  when  the  necessity  arises.  I 
have  known  some  otherwise  very  good  physi- 
cians to  make  themselves  very  unpopular, 
both  with  the  profession  and  the  public,  by 


308          CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE 

their  persistence  in  refusing  consultations. 
Such  men  generally  have  an  overweening  con- 
fidence in  their  own  abilities,  or  very  little  in 
that  of  their  professional  brethren.  The  phy- 
sician who  permits  any  precious  human  life  to 
be  lost  without  first  calling  to  his  assistance 
all  the  help  that  is  needed  or  is  available  does 
not  know  half  his  duty. 

But  it  is  trying,  sometimes,  to  feel  com- 
pelled under  a  pressure  of  circumstances  to 
call  a  man  whom  you  know  to  be  ignorant, 
unscrupulous  or  mean.  There  are  so  many 
ways  in  which  a  consulting  physician  can  dis- 
play his  littleness  if  he  is  mean  enough  to  do 
so.  I  once  knew  a  doctor  who  was  never 
called  in  a  case  without  doing  something 
which  was  calculated  to  undermine  the  attend- 
ing physician.  He  would  volunteer  directions 
about  the  diet,  or  how  to  administer  the  medi- 
cines; and  I  have  known  him  to  purposely 
leave  his  gloves,  and  return  for  them  from  his 
buggy,  and  while  in  the  room,  fix  the  cover 
and  give  some  extra  directions  or  cautions 
about  the  case.  This  seemed  so  kind  and  so 
good  upon  the  part  of  the  doctor  to  the  family 
that  they  involuntarily  fell  to  worshipping 
him. 

"He  took  so  much  interest  in  the  patient," 
they  said;  and  yet,  for  all  his  seeming  interest, 
he  thought  of  himself  (of  whom  he  was  pas- 
sionately fond)  a  dozen  times  where  he  would 
think  of  the  patient  once. 

I  have  heard  of  and  have  seen  some  very 
amusing  things  in  consultations.  When  I  be- 
gan practice  I  went  out  on  the  border,  partly 
in  order  to  quickly  secure  practice,  which  I 


CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE          309 

needed,  and  partly  to  get  away  from  the  old 
doctors,  whom  I  very  much  feared.  I  com- 
mitted the  very  common  mistake  of  believing 
that  gray  hairs  and  wisdom  were  synonymous 
words.  I  was  young  and  ignorant  and  knew 
it.  I  did  not  wish  to  expose  my  ignorance- 
to  anybody  and  so  decided  to  keep  out  of  the 
way.  When  I  got  settled  I  practised  for 
several  months  without  calling  counsel.  I 
knew  it  must  ultimately  come,  but  I  post- 
poned it  as  a  man  postpones  the  lancing  of 
a  felon.  I  thought  it  would  be  painful  and 
I  wished  to  put  it  o'ff  as  long  as  possible.  If 
I  could  have  been  chloroformed  (like  the  man 
with  the  felon)  and  could  have  held  the  con- 
sultation while  under  complete  anesthesia  I 
know  I  would  have  felt  better. 

But  it  came. 

I  finally  had  a  prominent  citizen  on  my 
hands  with  pneumonia.  He  didn't  improve. 
The  right  lung  became  consolidated  and  I  sus- 
pected invasion  of  the  left.  His  pulse  was 
rapid,  his  breathing  shallow,  and  his  countenance 
cyanosed. 

The  family  asked  for  a  consultation,  and, 
as  an  honest  man,  I  could  not  refuse  it.  They 
wanted  an  old  man  whom  I  shall  call  Smith  (be- 
cause that  was  not  his  name)  and  I  consented. 

I  had  heard  much  of  Smith.  He  had 
practised  in  that  country  ever  since  he  was 
let  out  of  the  Ark,  and  according  to  tradition, 
had  done  some  wonderful  things.  He  gen- 
erally selected  a  remedy  "which  went  right 
to  the  spot."  If  I  had  any  such  remedies  I 
didn't  know  how  to  select  them  and  there, 
I  thought,  was  where  my  weakness  lay. 


310 


CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE 


Smith  came.  He  was  riding  an  old  rail- 
backed  horse  with  a  chawed-off  tail,  and  a 
saddle  with  a  cantle  so  high  that  it  struck  him 
under  the  scapulae  and  a  horn  about  as  high 
in  front.  He  rode  with  a  part  of  a  barrel 
"hoop  and  when  he  would  strike  the  old  horse 
in  the  flank  he  (the  horse)  would  kick  up 
behind  and  his  tail  would  go  round  like  a 


AND  HIS  TAIL  WOULD  GO  ROUND  LIKE  A  COFFEE 
MILL  HANDLE  , 

coffee-mill  handle.  Smith  had  a  bushy  head, 
beetling  eye-brows,  and  wore  the  old-fashioned, 
green  leggin's  tied  on  with  the  hems  of  his 
wife's  petticoat,  and  thought  sat  perched  on 
his  massive  brow  like  a  lone  crow  on  a  country 
hog  rack. 

He  examined  the  patient  very  superficially 
—confining  his  examination  mainly  to  asking 
questions  of  the  wife— and  we  retired.  With 


CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE          311 

trepidation  and  modesty  I  detailed  the  history 
of  the  case  and  my  treatment,  and  then  braced 
myself  to  receive  the  cannonading  of  solid 
wisdom  which  I  supposed  would  come.  I 
expected  him  to  so  overwhelm  me  with  his 
technicalities  that  I  wouldn't  be  able  to  be 
out  for  a  week.  Smith  looked  at  me  sharply 
from  under  his  eyebrows  and  asked: 

"  Doctor,  did  you  ever  try  black  cat  skin 
poultices  in  these  cases?" 

I  admitted  that,  in  my  ignorance,  I  never 
had. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "it  is  a  good  thing  if  you 
can  get  a  reel  black  cat.  It  acts  like  a  charm." 

I  was  astonished.  Seeing  a  loop  hole  out 
of  the  case,  I  informed  the  family  that,  as 
the  patient  was  in  great  danger,  and  as  Dr. 
Smith  was  older  than  I  and  had  once  been 
their  family  physician,  I  thought  he  had  better 
take  the  case.  They  were  delighted  and  Smith 
unhesitatingly  took  charge. 

That  was  an  awful  and  calamitous  night 
on  cats — especially  black  cats.  The  boys 
killed  nearly  all  the  cats  in  the  neighborhood 
and  the  prominent  citizen  died  early  the.  next 
morning. 

Smith  said  that  "if  he  had  gotten  there 
a  little  sooner  and  could  have  found  a  reel 
black  cat  he  thought  he  could  have  saved 
him."  There  is  another  matter  connected 
with  this  case  which  may  delight  the  reader. 
Smith  is  dead,  also! 

I  was  called  once  to  meet  in  consultation 
a  man  whom  I  shall  call  Jones.  I  rode  fifteen 
miles  on  a  dark  night,  over  a  rough  country, 
before  I  reached  him.  When  I  reached  the 


312          CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE 

place  I  found  the  typical  home  of  the  squatter 
— log  cabin,  one  room  and  no  yard  fence.  As 
I  entered  the  room  I  inhaled  an  odor  so  pungent 
that  it  almost  gave  me  an  attack  of  spasmodic 
asthma.  Jones  arose  from  one  corner  of 
the  room  and  came  forward  to  meet  me.  He 
was  six  feet  two  in  his  stocking  feet  and  had 
a  nose  that  looked  like  the  red  lantern  in  a 
political  torch  light  procession.  He  had  only 
one  eye  and  the  other  looked  like  a  fried  egg. 
When  he  stood  up  by  me  and  towered  above 
me  and  beamed  on  me  with  his  good  eye  I 
felt  that  I  had  at  last  met  the  mythical  Cyclops. 
He  said  he  had  a  case  of  retained  placenta. 

"Well,  what  is  it  that  smells  so,  doctor?" 
I  asked. 

"I  am  burning  some  chicken  feathers  in 
a  pot  under  the  bed.  I  have  always  heard 
that  that  is  a  good  remedy,  though,  they  say 
that  Dominicker  feathers  is  the  best,"  said 
Jones. 

We  moved  the  pot  on  account  of  my  threat- 
ened asthma. 

When  I  came  to  examine  the  patient  I  ran 
across  a  hot  and  wet  ear  of  corn  leaning  against 
her  side  and  others  on  her  abdomen  and  around 
her  limbs.  I  took  out  about  a  half  bushel 
altogether. 

Jones  said  that  he  had  "always  heard  that 
that  was  good  in  such  cases,"  and  I  stood  there 
and  waited  for  the  Lord  to  smite  him  and 
didn't  kill  him  myself.  I  relieved  the  woman 
of  the  placenta,  but  she  died.  I  am  sorry  to 
state  that  Jones  was  living  at  last  accounts. 

A  medical  friend  of  mine  tells  me  a  funny 
story  illustrating  the  character  of  a  shrewd 


CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE          313 

country  quack.  When  my  friend  returned 
from  the  Confederate  army  (where  he  had 
been  an  assistant  surgeon)  he  settled  in  the 
county  seat  of  one  of  the  wealthiest  counties 
of  our  state.  He  was  young,  but  had  had 
some  experience,  was  a  close  student,  and  had 
that  kind  of  energy  and  grit  that  finally  enables 
a  man  to  rise  in  almost  any  calling. 

Living  in  the  country  some  ten  or  fifteen 
miles  from  town  was  one  of  those  shrewd 
fellows,  who  practiced  on  the  slam-banging, 
fire-away-without-taking-sight  method.  He  was 
often  compelled  to  call  in  a  consulting  physi- 
cian, and  generally  called  my  friend.  Just 
why  he  did  so  my  friend  was  not  able  to  guess, 
unless  it  was  that  my  friend  was  young  and 
the  old  fellow  thought  would  be  less  able  to 
expose  his  ignorance.  They  were  on  quite 
good  terms,  but  one  thing  my  friend  could 
never  succeed  in  doing  and  that  was  to  get 
the  old  man  to  tell  what  he  was  treating  the 
patient  for  until  he  (my  friend)  first  examined 
the  patient  and  made  a  diagnosis.  Then  the 
old  man  would  agree  with  him,  compliment 
him  on  his  ability  and  say: 

"That  is  just  what  I've  been  doctorin' 
him  fur." 

He  was  somewhat  afraid  of  the  spreading 
popularity  of  the  young  doctor,  and  would 
often  say  of  him: 

"A.  is  a  d — d  fine  young  doctor;  d — d 
fine.  In  fifteen  or  twenty  year  from  now  he'll 
be  as  good  as  any  of  us." 

That  was  a  safe  declaration,  as  he — the 
old  man — would,  in  all  probability,  be  out 
of  the  way  by  that  time. 


314          CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE 

At  last  my  friend  made  up  his  mind  that 
the  next  time  he  was  called  in  he  would  compel 
the  old  man  to  tell  what  the  matter  was  or  he 
would  refuse  to  do  so.  He  was  soon  called 
to  see  one  of  the  county  judges  in  'a  remote 
part  of  the  county.  The  old  man  was  treating 
him  and  A.  found  him  there.  When  A.  went 
in  the  old  man  greeted  him  cordially  and  when 
A.  asked  him  how  the  judge  was  the  old  man 
answered : 

"Purty  sick,  purty  sick;  A.  warm  your- 
self and  go  in  and  examine  him." 

"What  seems  to  be  the  matter  with  the 
Judge?"  said  A. 

"Go  in  and  examine  him  for  yourself," 
said  the  old  man. 

"Well,"  said  A.,  "I  will;  but  can't  you 
give  me  some  idea  of  what  the  trouble  is,  so 
as  to  save  time  and  that  I  may  not  expose  him 
too  long  on  such  a  cold  day?" 

"Go  in  and  examine  him  and  then  tell  me 
what  the  matter  is;  I  don't  want  to  prejudice 
your  mind.  Find  out  for  yourself,  young 
man;  it'll  do  you  good." 

With  all  the  pressure  A.  could  bring  to 
bear  he  couldn't  wring  the  old  doctor's  diag- 
nosis out  of  him.  He  went  in  and  examined 
the  Judge  and  found  him  in  the  second  stage 
of  pneumonia.  He  came  back  and  after 
pumping  the  old  doctor  again  and  proving 
the  inefficiency  of  his  pump  he  gave  it  up. 

The  old  man's  turn  came  now. 

"What  do  you  say's  the  matter  with  him,  A  ?" 

"He's  got  pneumonia,"  said  A. 

"Head's  level  again.  You  hit  'em  right 
along,  my  boy.  I  tell  'em  all  you  are  the 


CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE          315 

comin'  man  in  these  parts.  Have  you  ever 
seen  the  new  instrument  that  they  examine 
the  lungs  with?" 

A.  didn't  know  that  he  had.  The  old  man 
then  went  down  into  a  very  long  pocket  in  a 
very  long  overcoat  and  triumphantly  brought 
out  a  Camann's  binaural  stethoscope.  Where 
or  how  he  ever  same  across  it  A.  did  not  know. 

"Look  at  that,"  said  the  old  man.  "Look 
at  that,  young  man.  That's  what'll  tell  you 
what's  the  matter  with  the  lungs  every  time. 
Put  these  two  eends-in  your  ears  and  go  in 
thar  and  put  this  other  eend  on  the  Judge's 
chist  and  listen." 

A.  thought  he  had  the  old  man  cornered, 
and  so  asked: 

"What  shall  I  listen  for',  doctor?" 

"You  go  in  thar  and  put  that  on  the  Judge's 
chist,  young  man,  and  then  come  back  and 
tell  me  what  you  heard." 

"Well,  doctor,"  said  A.,  "I  can  do  that, 
but  can't  you  give  me  some  idea  of  the  sounds 
that  I  shall  listen  for  so  that  I  may  make  better 
use  of  the  new  instrument  and  the  examina- 
tion may  be  more  instructive  to  me?" 

The  old  man  showed  signs  of  being  hard 
pressed,  but  at  last  recovered  himself  and 
said: 

"A..,  go  in  thar  and  put  these  two  eends 
in  your  ears  and  put  the  big  eend  on  the  Judge's 
chist  and  listen,  and  if  you  don't  hear  the 
d — dest  rumblin'  and  roarin'  that  you  ever 
heard  in  your  life  then  you  may  call  me  a  liar." 

Dr.  A.  gave  it  up. 

I  know  of  nothing  that  better  illustrates 
the  fact  that  the  ridiculous  often  treads  closely 


316          CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE 

upon  the  heels  of  the  serious  than  the  follow- 
ing, which  occurred  in  one  of  my  own  con- 
sultations : 

I  was  called  by  telegraph  several  years 
ago  to  go  to  a  town  on  the  railroad  some  dis- 
tance from  where  I  was  then  living.  I  knew 
something  of  the  history  of  the  family  to  which 
I  was  called. 

A  mother  and  three  daughters — the  mother 
made  a  widow  when  the  youngest  was  a  babe. 
They  were  poor  but  good  people  and  the 
daughters  were  all  pretty.  The  poor  mother 
had  held  them  together  by  dint  of  hard  work 
— a  little  millinery,  a  little  dress  making  and 
other  sewing — in  her  humble  house.  The 
youngest  and  the  fairest  and  the  most  loved 
was  now  fifteen. 

I  never  knew  so  much  that  was  amiable 
and  beautiful  and  cleanly  and  lovely,  in  a 
family  so  poor. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  house  I  was  taken 
through  the  little  sitting  room  and  parlor  and 
up  a  narrow  and  steep  flight  of  stairs  to  a 
bedroom  above.  Here  I  found  the  youngest 
in  the  throes  of  death. 

She  was  attended  by  one  of  the  queerest 
beings  that  I  ever  met  in  consultation.  He 
was  near  sixty  years  of  age  and  wore  a  wig 
and  dyed  his  beard  with  nitrate  of  silver. 
His  beard  always  had  that  peculiar  arrange- 
ment of  colors  which  Warren  gives  to  the  hair 
of  Tittlebat  Titmouse  in  "Ten  Thousand  a 
Year,"  the  color  which  Bret  Harte  calls  "the 
purple  black  of  a  dyed  mustache."  He  was 
at  emnity  with  the  world  on  two  counts:  First, 
the  world  did  not  accept  his  religion,  and 


CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE          317 

second,  it  did  not  take  his  pills.  In  fact,  he 
had  kept  the  world  from  taking  his  pills  by 
insisting  too  strongly  on  its  taking  his  religion. 
The  citizens  called  him  "Old  Pill  Garlic." 

The  history  of  the  present  case  was  that 
the  beautiful  girl  had,  on  the  Friday  preceding, 
eaten  some  wild  persimmons.  At  night  she 
was  taken  with  a  sudden  and  severe  pain  low 
down  on  the  right  side.  "Old  Pill  Garlic" 
was  called,  and,  instead  of  giving  the  suffering 
child  an  opiate  and  putting  on  a  poultice,  he 
gave  three  of  Cook's  pills.  That  failing  to 
accomplish  anything,  he  gave  three  compound 
cathartic  pills,  then  three  blue  mass  pills,  then 
three  doses  of  calomel.  After  he  had  run 
the  gamut  of  the  magic  three  he  then  gave 
salts,  castor  oil,  seidlitz  powders,  etc.,  finally 
ending  with  a  few  drops  of  croton  oil,  which 
he  often  repeated  per  orem  and  per  enema. 
The  girl  had  torsion,  impaction,  intussuscep- 
tion or  some  obstruction  of  the  intestinal 
canal,  and,  of  course,  "Old  Pill  Garlic's" 
medication  had  only  added  fuel  to  the  fire. 
He  was  standing  by  the  bed  a  perfect  picture 
of  routed  helplessness.  The  poor  child  was 
cold  as  ice  to  the  knees  and  elbows,  was  pulse- 
less and  was  tossing  in  the  agonies  of  death. 
After  hearing  the  history  and  examining  the 
patient,  I  stepped  aside  with  the  doctor. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  her?"  said  he. 

"I  think  she  is  dying,"  said  I. 

"What!  not  so  bad  as  that,  is  it?" 

I  answered  that  she  would  not  live  an  hour. 

She  did  not  live  half  that  time. 

Here  was  a  man  with  some  education,  and 
who  had  also  had  the  advantages  of  a  medi- 


318          CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE 

cal  education,  who  had  practised  medicine 
nearly  forty  years,  and  yet  did  not  have  judg- 
ment enough  to  know  when  a  person  was 
dying.  I  was  given  the  most  painful  task 
of  informing  the  mother  and  sisters  that  the 
child  was  dying. 

Painful  task,  I  say,  because  of  all  the  pain- 
ful duties  that  a  doctor  is  called  upon  to  per- 
form, this  has,  to  me,  always  been  the  most 
painful.  There  was  agony,  screams  and  tears. 
Oh,  the  agony  it  cost  to  surrender  the  beauti- 
ful, the  gentle,  the  loved  and  petted  one  of 
this  little  band. 

When  she  had  breathed  her  last  a  lady 
(whom  I  had  known  from  my  young  man- 
hood) asked  me  to  help  her  take  the  mother 
and  sisters  down  stairs.  We  did  so,  and 
leaving  old  P.  G.  behind,  passed  down  through 
the  little  parlor,  and  into  a  little  bedroom. 
Here  my  lady  friend  broke  down  and  said: 

''Oh,  can't  some  one  pray  for  these  poor, 
dear  suffering  women?  Brother — will  you 
pray?" 

This  last  was  addressed  to  a  good  old 
deacon  who  had  just  come  in.  We  all  knelt 
down  and  the  deacon  petitioned  the  Throne 
of  Grace.  The  prayer  was  somewhat  ram- 
bling and  ungrammatical  but  he  talked  as  if 
he  was  talking  to  the  Lord  face  to  face.  There 
were  no  attempts  at  lofty  flights,  but  in  the 
simplest  and  plainest  of  human  speech,  he 
told  the  Lord  of  the  wants  of  the  widow  and 
the  orphans,  called  Him  "Heavenly  Parent" 
and  "Beloved  Father,"  and  with  his  simple 
speech,  tender  pathos  and  strong  faith,  lifted 
us  all  up  to  the  Pearly  Gates. 


CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE 


319 


The  stricken  ones  seemed  to  be  soothed 
by  the  prayer  and  ceased  their  loud  wailings. 

Just  as  the  Deacon  said  "Amen,"  there 
came  a  sudden  overturning  of  something  at 
the  top  of  the  stairs,  a  wild  exclamation,  and 
then  rumpity,  bumpity,  bump,  bump,  bumpity, 
bump — swash-h-h-h.  The  last  sounded  as 
if  some  one  was  swabbing  a  Krupp  gun  with 
a  Dutch  peddler. 


I  SAW  THAT  HIS  HEAD  SHONE  LIKE  A  LOCOMO- 
TIVE HEADLIGHT 

"There,"  said  my  friend,  "the  old  doctor 
has  fallen  down  stairs." 

I  seized  the  lamp  and  ran  into  the  little 
parlor  and  there  found  "Old  Pill  Garlic" 
on  his  knees  and  left  hand  while  he  felt  out 
in  a  spasmodic  and  uncertain  way  with  his 
right  for  something  in  front  of  him.  I  saw 
a  black  object  on  the  floor,  thought  it  was  a 
cat  and  kicked  it.  Then  turning  the  light  full 
upon  the  doctor  I  saw  that  his  head  shone 
like  a  locomotive  headlight.  I  knew  then 
that  the  black  object  was  his  wig.  I  picked 


320          CONSULTATIONS  AND  THE  CODE 

it  up,  and,  having  a  light  in  the  other  hand, 
I  put  it  on  hind  part  before. 

When  the  doctor  arose  he  had  bangs  clear 
down  to  his  eyes,  and  he  turned  around  like 
a  blind  horse  three  times  before  he  got  his 
wig  straight. 

I  asked  if  he  was  hurt  much. 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  said  he,  in  a  way  that  in- 
dicated that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  falling 
down  stairs  just  for  the  exercise  it  gave  him. 

We  soon  had  the  wig  straightened,  how- 
ever, and,  bidding  all  good-bye,  I  took  the 
train  for  home  within  an  hour.  I  was  so 
impressed  with  the  sorrows  of  the  family  and 
the  deacon's  prayer  that  "Old  Pill  Garlic's" 
tumble  did  not  seem  amusing  or  ridiculous. 
In  fact,  it  made  so  slight  an  impression  on 
me  that  I  forgot  it. 

Six  months  afterward,  a  facetious  fellow 
from  the  little  village  came  into  my  office  and 
reminded  me  of  it.  There  was  no  sorrow 
present  then,  and  no  tender  prayer  to  lift  me 
up,  and  it  did  really  seem  ludicrous. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS 

PATIENTS,  HOTEL  KEEPERS,  ETC. — THE  HOMELY 
CRANK — "THE  HON.  MRS.  SKEWTON" — MR. 
GUTZWEILER — THE  SICK  GIRL,  THE  DEAF 
LANDLADY  WITH  TIN  TRUMPET,  AND  THE 
MILLINER. 

PRESUME  that  people 
[of  all  professions  and 
[trades  have  their  annoy- 
'  ing  customers  and  patrons. 
The  lawyer  is  annoyed, 
no  doubt,  by  the  persistent 
client,  who  wants  to  sue 
has  no  case;  the  merchant 
by  the  customer  who  looks  at 
everything  in  the  store  and 
buys  nothing;  the  minister  by  the  sinful  penitent 
who  is  always  sinning  and  always  repenting 
and  is  never  satisfied;  and  so  I  might  go  on 
through  them  all  and  we  would  find  that  there 
is  no  business  to  transact,  which  brings  us  in 
contact  with  the  masses,  which  has  not  its 
trials  and  petty  annoyances. 

Some  people  seem  to  have  been  born  to 
trouble  others.  They  seem  to  feel  that  they 
are  burden  bearers  and  they  are  everlastingly 
trying  to  shift  the  burden.  Some  people  are 
born  mal  a  propos — breech  presentations,  so 
to  speak — and  they  go  about  the  world  wrong 


322  PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS 

end  foremost,  and  no  reasonable,  well  organ- 
ized person  can,  under  ordinary  circumstances, 
come  in  contact  with  them  without  being 
more  or  less  upset.  I  know  people,  to  avoid 
meeting  whom  I  would  willingly  walk  around  a 
whole  block. 

It  is  not  the  sick  alone,  of  whom  the  above 
observations  are  made;  for,  any  good  and 
humane  physician  will  learn  to  bear  and  for- 
bear with  the  sick.  Some  of  our  patients, 
however,  annoy  us  enough — those  who  "get 
their  disease  in  their  heads;"  who  are  never 
any  better;  who  tell  us  that  the  last  medi- 
cine made  them  worse;  patients  who  come 
oftener  than  we  desire  and  who  wish  to  go 
over  all  the  details  of  their  physical  ailments 
each  time,  and  who  throw  in  all  of  their  little 
family  troubles,  squabbles  and  broils,  as  a 
sort  of  relish;  those  who  wish  to  hold  a  con- 
sultation with  the  doctor  about  their  cases, 
or  come  with  a  diagnosis  already  made  and 
a  remedy  selected,  but  seem  to  want  the  doctor 
to  take  the  responsibility  of  the  treatment. 
Such  as  these  give  us  trouble  enough;  but 
there  are  others  who  seem  to  make  it  a  part 
of  their  business  to  worry  their  family  phy- 
sician, or  any  one  whom  they  may  select  for 
that  purpose. 

I  think  there  are  some  women  in  the  world 
(and  they  are  most  all  good,  God  bless  'em!) 
who,  when  arranging  for  a  trip  down  town, 
really  cogitate  and  tax  their  brains  as  to  how 
much  real  annoyance  they  can  inflict  on  the 
dry  goods  man,  the  dressmaker  and  the  mil- 
liner, and  who  finally  wind  up  by  saying  to 
themselves  something  like  this: 


PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS  323 

"And,  ah-yes,  well,  after  that,  I  guess  I'll 
go  around  and  worry  the  doctor  awhile!" 
and  they  do. 

I  remember  one  miserable  case  that  gave 
me  enough  worry  to  have  made  Job  totter 
on  his  good  resolutions. 

Before  I  had  made  her  acquaintance  I  had 
noticed  her  sailing  around  our  streets,  in  a 
cranky  sort  of  way — always  pulling  a  1'ttle 
girl  by  the  hand,  and  walking  so  fast  that 
the  poor  child  was  often  almost  pulled  off  its 
little  feet. 

She  was  a  slender,  stoop-shouldered,  tallow- 
faced  and  cadaverous  looking  little  woman, 
with  a  hawk-bill  nose  and  pop  eyes.  Oh, 
she  was  so  homely!  I  have  heard  of  people 
being  so  homely  that  they  had  the  face  ache. 
If  such  a  thing  were  possible,  how  this  woman 
must  have  suffered.  It  really  gave  one  a  pain 
to  look  at  her.  She  came  into  my  office  one 
afternoon  dragging  the  little  girl  by  the  hand 
and  planked  herself  down  in  a  chair,  and, 
after  arranging  some  bundles  she  had  in  an 
old-maidish  sort  of  fashion,  she  looked  at  me 
and  opened  up  thus: 

"Air  you  Dr.  King?" 

"Yes,  madam." 

"Well,  I've  heard  of  you,  and  they  say 
that  you  air  a  purty  good  doctor.  Now,  I 
want  you  to  tell  me  what's  the  matter  with 
anybody  when  they  feel  jest  like  somebody 
was  a  gripping  of  their  thighs  and  pulling  all 
the  flesh  off  and  like  somebody  else  had  both 
hands  a  holt  of  their  bowels  and  was  jest  a 
twistin'  and  a  wringin'  of  'em  and  like  some- 
body else  had  a  rusty  nail  tied  onto  a  string 


324  PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS 

and  was  jest  a  pullin'  it  up  and  down  on  the 
inside  of  the  spine  of  their  backs." 

I  smiled,  almost  audibly,  at  this  array  of 
unusual  symptoms  and  answered: 

"Well,  madam,  those  are  not  symptoms 
of  anything  that  I  ever  heard  of." 

"Shet  your  mouth,  you  mean  thing,"  said 
she,  snappishly,  "I  jest  know  you  air  a  laughin' 
at  me." 

Then  I  couldn't  keep  from  "laughin'  right 
out  in  school." 

Well,  I  examined  her  case  and  prescribed 
for  her,  and  had  her  on  my  hands  as  a  standing 
horror  for  four  years.  She  just  wouldn't  have 
anybody  else.  I  took  it  as  a  great  compli- 
ment and  again  thought  of  trying  to  trace  my 
genealogy  back  to  the  "Man  of  Uz." 

She  was  dissatisfied  with  the  whole  earth 
and  the  planets  and  the  space  and  things  be- 
yond the  planets;  but,  her  one  crowning  trouble 
was  that  she  was  lean,  and  her  one  desire  in 
life  was  to  get  fat.  She  would  say  to  me: 

"I'll  take  anything;  I'll  eat  sticks,  I'll  eat 
boards,  I'll  eat  hay  if  you  will  only  tell  me 
it  will  make  me  fat." 

I  would  as  soon  have  undertaken  the  task 
of  putting  fat  on  a  hoe  handle  or  a  pair  of 
tongs  as  to  try  to  put  it  on  her.  You  had 
only  to  see  her  to  know  that  to  make  her  fat 
was  an  impossibility. 

She  had  a  good  looking  husband  and  was 
jealous  of  him,  and,  in  addition  to  her  other 
troubles,  she  used  to  load  me  down  with  her 
suspicions  about  "my  man." 

She  wanted  beer — as  she  had  heard  that 
would  make  fat.  I  ordered  it — a  glass  at  each 


PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS  325 

meal.  She  would  get  a  half  dozen  bottles, 
drink  them  all  in  one  day,  get  gloriously  drunk, 
be  sick  three  days  and  then  come  down  to  the 
office  and  tell  me  that  the  beer  was  not  doing 
her  any  good.  I  believed  her. 

She  finally  died  of  acute  mania;  but,  oh, 
my!  the  trouble  she  did  give  me  in  the  last 
four  years  of  her  life!  I  am  glad  now  that  I 
was  patient  with  this  poor,  nervous  and  un- 
fortunate woman.  Perhaps  I  added  a  little 
to  her  happiness — if  it  could  be  said  that  she 
knew  any  such  thing  as  happiness;  or,  to  put 
it  better,  it  may  be  that  the  kindness  I  showed 
her  and  the  patience  with  which  I  bore  her 
many  most  aggravating  annoyances  made  her 
less  unhappy.  If  so,  then  I  am  glad,  for, 
perhaps,  she  will  remember  it  up  there,  where 
she  is,  perhaps,  as  pretty  and  as  fat  as  any  of 
the  others  of  the  redeemed. 

Another  class  of  people  who  annoy  doctors 
is  the  class  of  persons  who  send  for  you  in  a 
great  hurry — want  you  "right  away" — and  are 
never  ready  for  you  when  you  get  there.  They 
keep  you  waiting  at  the  door  for  half  an  hour 
and  then  a  servant  admits  you  and  directs  you 
to  take  a  seat  in  the  sitting  room,  where  you 
wait  another  half  hour. 

I  attended  a  comparatively  poor  family 
once  where  it  took  almost  as  much  time  and 
red  tape  to  reach  the  patient  as  it  ought  to 
take  to  procure  an  audience  with  the  queen 
of  England. 

It  may  be  that  the  lady  of  the  house  is  sick 
and  that  after  you  reach  the  front  door  she 
takes  a  bath,  changes  her  night  dress  and  per- 
fumes herself  (this  kind  of  people  are  great 


326  PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS 

perfumers),  fixes  her  hair,  and,  if  she  is  not 
too  sick,  paints  and  powders  her  face.  After 
this  she  admits  you.  This  sort  of  people  are 
always  sacrificing  the  convenience  of  somebody 
else  in  order  to  have  their  own  way  and  their 
own  time  about  matters.  They  are  supremely 
self-important,  not  to  say  selfish.  I  do  not 
know  how  my  professional  brethren  act  under 
such  circumstances;  but  no  family  ever  puts 
me  in  a  waiting  attitude  but  once.  After  that 
there  is  a  plain,  fair  talk,  which  everybody 
can  understand,  and  the  moral  to  it  is:  Don't 
make  the  doctor  wait;  be  ready  for  him;  his 
time  is  precious  and  there  are  other  sick  people 
in  town  who  need  him,  perhaps,  while  he  is 
waiting.  After  this  talk,  if  the  offence  were 
repeated,  I  would  either  go  away  or  kick  in 
the  front  door,  and  my  action  would  probably 
be  determined  by  the  strength  of  the  door. 
I  believe  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  outraging 
the  feelings  of  a  saint.  This  is  one  way  in  which 
to  do  it. 

I  had  a  most  annoying  case  of  the  kind  once. 
A  distinguished  old  couple  from  another  state 
visited  the  small  town  where  I  was  then  prac- 
tising. The  gentleman  was  a  most  excellent 
man  in  all  respects — had  succeeded  in  making 
a  great  deal  of  money  in  his  time,  and  his  friv- 
olous and  weak  wife  had  succeeded  in  spend- 
ing it  for  paints  and  powders,  frills,  flounces 
and  furbelows  almost  as  fast  as  he  had  made 
it.  She  was  between  sixty  and  seventy  years 
of  age  at  this  time  and  was  as  pronounced  a 
specimen  of  the  type  dudine  as  I  ever  saw. 
She  had  never  been  beautiful,  and  at  this  time 
she  was  old  and  bony,  with  sunken,  wrinkled 


PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS  327 

cheeks  and  scraggy  jaws;  in  short,  she  was 
a  regular  mardi  gras  figure.  They  were  people 
somewhat  distinguished  in  the  locality  from 
whence  they  came,  and  this  reputation  had 
preceded  them,  so  that  almost  the  entire  little 
town  was  put  under  contribution  for  their 
entertainment.  This,  I  suppose,  is  the  reason 
why  I  bore  with  the  annoyances  of  this  silly 
and  frightful  old  ogress  without  "giving  her  a 
piece  of  my  mind" — a  very  large  piece. 

She  grew  sick.  Change  of  climate,  water 
and  diet  brought  on  "a  violent  trouble  and  I 
was  sacrificed  for  the  occasion.  I  never  got 
to  see  her  under  an  hour  after  I  called  and  it 
was  often  longer.  She  had  the  most  elaborately 
wrought  night  dresses  and  wore  more  loud 
jewelry  than  a  Senegambian  princess.  She 
wore  spit  curls,  pasted  and  painted  all  over 
and  into  the  dips,  spurs  and  angles  of  her 
scraggy  old  face,  and  perfumed  until  the  air 
was  rank  with  the  odor  of  Mellier  extracts, 
attar  of  roses,  musk  and  so  forth. 

She  would  generally  permit  me  to  catch 
her  in  the  last  act  of  this  business  of  upholster- 
ing her  physiognomy,  and  would  simper  and 
giggle  and  make  pretense  of  hiding  her  boxes 
and  bottles  under  the  bed  clothes,  like  a  silly, 
bashful  girl,  who  is  caught  kissing  a  boy,  the 
giddy  old  thing.  She  would  sit  up  in  bed 
and  go  through  this  nonsensical  performance 
when  she  was  so  sick  that  it  was  all  she  could 
do  to  hold  up  her  weak  and  empty  head.  I 
nicknamed  her  "The  Hon.  Mrs.  Skewton." 
The  reader  will  remember  "The  Honorable 
Mrs.  Skewton"  (in  Dombey  &  Son)  .who  used 
to  have  such  flirtations  with  Capt.  Joe  Bagstock, 


328  PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS 

and  who  ordered  the  attendants  to  "draw  the 
pink  curtains,"  when  she  was  dying,  in  order 
that   she   might   have   the   pink  glow   on   her 
cheek.     This  woman  was  a  complete  counter 
part  of  her. 

One  thing  that  makes  such  persons  so 
unbearable  is  the  fact  of  the  utter  uselessness 
of  the  life  that  the  person  has  led  or  is  leading. 
A  person  whose  whole  life  is  devoted  to  spend- 
ing what  some  one  else  makes;  who  never 
does  anything  commendable;  who  never  earns 
anything,  is  always  contemptible.  We  don't 
like  to  be  annoyed  by  worthless,  useless  people. 
I  would  willingly  sleep  in  a  hog  pen  (and  lie 
next  to  the  hogs)  with  a  John  Howard,  or 
with  any  man  whose  life  has  been  unselfishly 
devoted  to  the  great  work  of  relieving  the 
pains,  miseries  and  wants  of  others,  if  it  gave 
him  comfort,  while  I  can  not  bear  patiently 
for  a  moment  with  the  selfish  annoyances 
of  people  who  live  for  and  think  only  of  them- 
selves. This  is  the  difference,  and  it  is  a 
great  difference. 

Another  class  of  people  who  annoy  doctors 
is  the  class  who  wish  to  get  sick  people  out 
of  their  houses.  To  this  class  belong,  notably, 
hotel  keepers,  boarding  house  keepers,  real 
estate  landlords,  and  sometimes  others. 

Here  is  a  case: 

I  am  called  to  see  a  young  man  who  is 
stopping  or  boarding  at  a  hotel.  After  the 
*  second  visit  I  pronounce  the  case  to  be  typhoid 
fever.  To  the  friends,  attendants  or  others 
about  the  sick  person  I  announce  this  fact  and 
order  that  certain  things  be  done  and  that 
certain  precautions  be  observed.  This  news 


PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS  329 

spreads  through  the  hotel  and  the  landlord 
hears  it.  He  at  once  sees  disaster  staring 
him  in  the  face.  He,  therefore,  lies  in  wait 
for  me  at  my  next  visit.  As  I  pass  in  he  hails 
me.  I  know  at  once  what  he  wants  and  tell 
him  I  will  see  him  when  I  come  down.  On 
coming  from  my  patient's  room  I  find  him  faith- 
fully on  guard.  He  speaks  very  low,  takes 
me  to  a  private  room,  shuts  the  door  and  sits 
down  facing  me  and  the  following  dialogue 
takes  place : 

"Doctor,  you  are  "waiting  on  Mr.  Johnson 
in  room  u,  are  you  not?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  er-ah — what's  the  matter  with  him?" 

"He  has  typhoid  fever." 

"•Typhoid  fever!     You   don't   say   so?" 

"Yes,  sir,  it  is  an  unmistakable  case  of 
typhoid." 

"Umph  hoo!    Well,  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it." 

Then  there  is  a  short  silence  and  I  know 
just  what  this  silence  means.  He  is  summon- 
ing all  the  impudence  from  the  innermost 
depths  of  his  selfish  nature  and  getting  ready 
for  the  onslaught.  He  breaks  silence: 

"Well,  er-ah,  Doc.,  when  can  you  take  him 
away  from  here?" 

"Get  him  away?"  I  ask,  in  astonishment. 

"Yes,"  he  answers,  somewhat  confidently, 
now  that  he  has  broken  the  ice,  "when  can 
you  move  him?" 

"/  move  him?"  I  ask  again,  affecting  still 
greater  astonishment. 

"Yes,  when  can  you  take  him  out  of  the 
hotel?" 

"I  can't  take  him  away  at  all,"  I  answer. 


330  PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS 

"You  can't?     Why  not?" 

"Well,  in  the  first  place,  I  didn't  bring  him 
here;  and,  in  the  second  place,  I  am  not  in 
the  transfer  business.  You  seem  to  think 
that  I  have  gone  into  the  transfer  business, 
but  you  are  mistaken." 

"Well,  but— er-ah — he's  your  patient." 

This  is  his  clincher,  and  I  answer  it — 

"Yes,  but  he  is  your  guest,  and  he  was 
your  guest  before  he  was  my  patient.  Do 
you  think  I  am  going  to  fritter  away  my  time 
moving  people  around  from  place  to  place  and 
getting  sick  people  out  of  hotels  in  order  to 
please  frightened  landlords?  You  must  be 
going  insane?" 

"But  what  am  I  to  do?"  he  asks,  with 
much  excitement. 

"Don't  do  anything.  Keep  quiet  and  be- 
have yourself  and  then  you  will  not  get  into 
trouble." 

Then  he  thinks  awhile  and  this  is  the  result : 

"Well,  er-ah,  can  I  move  him?" 

"Well,  as  to  the  physical  act  of  moving 
him  I  presume  you  could;  but  you  will  not." 

"I    will    not?     Why    not?" 

"Because  I  will  not  permit  you  to  move 
him." 

"You  will  not  permit  me!  Well,  now, 
that's  pretty  cool.  We'll  see." 

"That's  a  good  idea.  You  see  about  this 
matter  before  you  do  anything  rash,  for  if  you 
move  this  sick  man  without  my  consent  and 
any  harm  comes  to  him  in  consequence  of 
the  removal  I  will  have  you  arrested.  Let 
me  advise  you  to  see  your  lawyer  before  you 
move  this  sick  man." 


331 

This  frightens  him;  but  he  tacks  and 
comes  again. 

"I'd  like  to  know  what  he  is  to  you?  He's 
a  perfect  stranger  to  you." 

"He  is  everything  to  me,  sir.  He  is  very 
sick  and  has  sent  for  me  and  entrusted  his 
life  to  my  care,  and,  so  long  as  he  is  sick  and 
helpless,  and  I  am  acting  in  the  capacity  of 
physician  in  his  case,  he  is  not  only  entitled 
to  the  very  best  care  and  treatment  at  my 
hands,  but  he  is  entitled  to  my  protection  and 
I  will  defend  him  against  a  world  in  arms,  if 
need  be,  and  the  man  who  injures  him  must 
first  place  me  hors  du  combat." 

This  is  a  poser.  The  landlord  thinks 
again,  and,  in  his  mind,  sees  his  best  guests 
packing  their  trunks  and  fleeing  from  the  con- 
tagion of  typhoid.  It  is  dreadful,  and  the 
very  thought  of  it  sits  upon  his  heart  and 
weighs  him  down  like  a  nightmare.  Then 
he  gets  pathetic  and  pleads.  He  begs  and 
cajoles  me;  but  I  am  defending  a  sick  man 
and  am  obdurate.  Then  he  goes  and  sees 
his  clerk  and  his  wife  and  comes  back  full 
of  the  spirit  of  compromise:  Can  he  move  him 
into  a  small  room  at  the  top  of  the  house? 
I  go  with  him  and  look  at  the  room;  and,  if 
it  suits  me,  I  say  "yes."  It  not,  I  select  one 
that  does  suit  me,  and  permit  the  landlord 
and  his  help  to  move  my  patient.  I  remain 
and  watch  the  process  to  see  that  he  is  not 
hurt,  and,  since  matters  seem  to  be  moving 
on  so  nicely,  I  quietly  inform  the  landlord  that, 
if  everything  goes  well,  at  a  certain  time  I  will 
permit  him  to  move  my  patient  to  another  place 
— I  to  first  see  and  approve  the  place  and  he 


332  PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS 

to  take  all  the  trouble  of  moving  him  under 
my  directions.  For  the  time  I  am  absolute 
master  of  this  man's  house,  and  I  enjoy  it.  I 
enjoy  no  part  of  it  more  than  the  fact  that  I 
have  impressed  on  the  mind  of  this  ordinarily 
imperious  autocrat  the  fact  that  /  am  not  in 
the  transfer  business. 

Here  is  another  case.  I  am  attending  a 
poor  young  married  woman,  in  a  small  frame 
house,  which  belongs  to  a  thrifty,  but  close- 
fisted  German.  The  husband  is  a  railroad 
man,  earns  small  wages  which  just  about 
enable  him  to  keep  his  little  family  and  pay 
the  rent,  and  the  young  wife  is  stricken  down 
with  a  pelvic  hemorrhage  (pelvic  hcematocele] , 
not  a  fatal  trouble  by  any  means,  but  one  which 
requires  quietude  for  several  weeks,  and  which, 
if  the  patient  were  moved  or  allowed  to  make 
exertion  in  the  erect  posture,  might  result 
fatally.  The  German  has,  perhaps,  already 
experienced  trouble  in  getting  his  rent  when 
it  was  due,  and  now  that  the  husband  must 
quit  work  for  a  while  and  lose  time  in  conse- 
quence of  his  wife's  sickness,  the  thrifty  Teuton 
sniffs  trouble  and  losses  in  the  air. 

He  does  not  know  me,  but  he  comes  to 
my  residence  at  an  hour  when  he  knows  he 
can  find  me.  He  introduces  himself  and  says: 

"Vas  you  ductor  Ging?" 

"Yes,  sir,  that  is  my  name. 

"Veil,  you  haf  one  batient  on  my  house  at 
—  Eastfort  street — Meeses  Morgan." 

"Yes,  sir,  that  is  correct." 

"Veil  ductor,  oxkuse  me,  but  vas  she  very 
seek?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Gutzweiler,  she  is  very  sick." 


PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS  333 

"Veil,  oxkuse  me,  ductor,  but  ven  can  you 
get  her  my  house  oudt?" 

"I  can't  get  her  out  at  all." 

"Ish  dot  so?     Vy  you  can't?" 

"Because  she  is  too  sick  to  be  moved,  and 
because  I  am  not  in  the  transfer  business. 
You  have  certainly  made  a  mistake,  Mr.  Gutz- 
weiler,  you  think  I  am  in  the  transfer  business." 

"Who  said  dose  dings,  dot  you  in  the  trans- 
fare  peesiness  vas?  I  don't  said  nodings  like 
dot." 

"No,  you  did  not,  but  you  wanted  to  know 
when  I  could  move  this  woman  and  I  didn't 
think  you  would  ask  such  a  question  unless 
you  thought  I  made  it  a  business  to  move 
sick  people." 

"No,  no,  no,  I  don't  dink  no  such  dings 
like  dot;  aber  he  vas  your  batient." 

"Yes,  'aber'  she  is  your  tenant." 

"Mine  Gott!  I  know  dot  alretty,  und  I 
haf  heap  of  droubles  dot  rent  to  gollect  alretty, 
und  now  I  gets  nodings." 

"That's  bad  and  I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Gutz- 
weiler,  but  the  woman  can't  be  moved.  That 
is  the  long  and  the  short  of  it,  so  please  do 
not  bother  me  any  further  about  the  matter." 

"I  doned  gare  von  tarn  by  dem  long  und 
dem  short,  aber  I  vant  dose  beoples  moved 
my  house  oudt,  und  I'll  git  'em  oudt,  by  yeminy! 
You'll  see.  I  get  some  law  und  move  'em 
oudt;  dot's  vat  I  do." 

"That's  right,  Mr.  Gutzweiler,  you  get 
some  law,  but  don't  move  them  without  the 
law,  because,  if  you  do  and  that  woman  should 
die,  they  will  get  you  in  jail,  sure." 

"Who  get  me  in  chail?" 


334  PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS 

"Why  the  grand  jury  and  the  sheriff." 

"Oh,  mine  Gott!  Dis  vas  der  meanest 
beoples  und  der  vorst  laws  vat  I  efer  seen," 
and  the  bowlegged,  jugbodied  and  disconsolate 
fellow  waddles  off  home. 

He  evidently  consults  a  lawyer.  He  comes 
again  the  next  day  and  opens  up  after  the  same 
fashion — "oxkuse  me,  ductor,  aber  ven  can 
you  move  dose  beoples  my  house  oudt?" 

I  call  his  attention  to  the  fact  that  I  am  not 
in  the  transfer  business,  which  seems  to  excite 
and  aggravate  him.  He  begs,  argues,  scolds, 
gets  mad  and  raves,  and  occasionally  gets  so 
excited  and  exasperated  that  his  small  stock 
of  English  is  not  sufficient  to  express  his  over- 
wrought feelings,  and  he  halts,  gasps,  strains 
and  tugs  at  his  memory,  and  draws  hasty  drafts 
on  this  small  stock  of  English  which  are  not 
honored,  when  he  gets  so  outraged  that  he 
wrenches  great,  irregular  masses  of  jaw  fractur- 
ing words  and  parts  of  sentences  from  his 
German  store,  and  literally  flings  them  into 
the  sentence  with  an  audible  crash,  and  a  wild, 
insane  gesture,  which  finishes  the  sentence, 
and  with  his  heart  pressure  thus  relieved,  he 
stands  and  pants  and  mops  his  head  like  a 
man  who  has  run  a  hard  race  or  laid  down 
a  heavy  burden. 

I  sit  and  smile  and  look  up  at  the  ceiling. 
I  despise  stingy  people  and,  therefore,  am 
never  more  at  my  ease  than  I  am  when  I  see 
one  of  these  nickel  squeezing  fellows  worrying 
about  his"  losses. 

He  comes  again  the  next  day  and  the  next 
and  the  next.  He  makes  all  sorts  of  proposi- 
tions, which  all  include  the  idea  of  moving 


PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS  335 

Mrs.  Morgan  and  all  of  which  I  reject  with 
a  quiet,  firm  shake  of  the  head,  and  with  the 
air  of  a  man  who  knows  that  he  holds  the 
situation  in  the  hollow  of  his  good  right  hand 
and  intends  to  have  his  own  way — not  just 
for  the  love  of  power,  not  to  be  wilfully  over- 
bearing, but  for  the  sake  of  poor  little  Mrs. 
Morgan,  who  lies  helplessly  flat  on  her  back, 
and  for  the  sake  of  the  little  girl  who  would 
be  motherless,  should  Mrs.  Morgan  die.  That 
is  enough  to  justify  a  man  in  being  firm,  even 
if  some  shriveled-souled,  nickel  squeezer  does 
not  feel  well.  I  lost  no  sleep  on  Gutzweiler's 
account,  but  I  was  intensely  amused  at  his 
agony.  It  was  as  bad  as  a  case  of  cramp  colic. 

But,  he  came  too  often.  He  was  occupying 
too  much  of  my  time.  I  couldn't  afford  to 
have  a  circus  in  my  house  every  day  even  if 
it  did  amuse  me.  I  lost  patience  with  Gutz- 
weiler  and  so,  when  I  saw  him  coming  one 
afternoon  I  met  him  in  the  front  yard  and, 
in  a  few  words,  told  him  that  he  must  not 
come  to  my  house  on  that  business  any  more. 

He  threatened  to  move  my  patient  and  I 
quietly  told  him  to  move  -her,  and  that  it  would 
kill  her  and  then  he  would  go  to  jail.  Then 
he  got  madder  and  animadverted  in  very  tor- 
tuous and  torturing  mixed  English  and  Ger- 
man on  the  laws  of  this  country. 

I  said  to  him  in  a  quiet,  suggestive  and 
somewhat  aggravating  way: 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'd  do  if  I  were  you, 
Gutzweiler." 

"Vat  you  do?"  he  asked. 

"I  would  go  back  to  Germany.  You  can 
go  back  to  Germany  and  work  for  fifteen  cents 


336 

a  day  and  eat  spoilt  kraut  and  have  a  real 

good  time — almost  as  good  as  the  hogs  do  out 
here!" 

This  was  too  much.  Gutzweiler  got  steam- 
ing hot  and  grew  insulting.  I  seized  a  gar- 
den rake  which  had  been  eft  against  a  tree 


"I  DON'D  SKIN  SOME  FLINTS,  NUDDER" 

in  the  front  yard  and  made  a  feigned  desperate 
pass  at  him  and  said: 

"You  miserable  old  skin  flint,  if  you  don't 
yet  out  of  my  yard  I  will  break  you  up  so  small 
that  there  will  not  be  enough  left  of  you  to 
address  a  letter  to!" 

"I  done  vant  no  letters!  Who  said  I  vant 
letters  vas  a  pig  lie;  und  I  done  skin  some 


PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS  337 

flints,    nudder!     You    go  gubbledy, 

gobbledy,    gibbledy,    rar-r-r-r,    rar-r-r-zt-zit"- 
as  he  disappeared  around  the  corner,  his  mixed 
English  and  German  sounding  like  a  combina- 
tion  of   the   noises   of   escaping   steam   and   a 
wooden  sorghum  mill. 

I  don't  know  whether  Gutzweiler  ever 
collected  his  rent  or  not,  nor  do  I  care.  I 
know  that  I  did  not  get  my  fee  in  the  case. 
Don't  care  for  that,  either.  Mrs.  Morgan  got 
well  and  the  little  girl  was  not  left  an  orphan 
and  that  was  enough  to  satisfy  any  good  man. 

Here  is  a  still  more  peculiar  case: 

A  young  girl  whose  father  had  died  when 
she  was  a  child  and  whose  mother  married 
again — married  a  man  who  took  a  dislike  to 
the  little  girl  and  drove  her  away  from  home 
at  the  age  of  twelve — gets  sick.  She  has  been 
a  sort  of  protege  of  mine  for  some  time.  She 
had  seen  much  trouble  for  a  young  girl,  but 
through  her  own  exertion,  with  some  aid  from 
good  friends,  had  succeeded  in  obtaining  a 
fair  education.  She  was  a  good  girl,  but  was 
sick  a  great  deal.  I  had  attended  her  for 
years,  at  times  when  she  suffered  greatly. 

Through  the  influence  of  friends  she  got  a 
position  in  the  post  office,  and  just  at  a  time 
when  she  was  congratulating  herself  that  she 
was  beginning  to  see  the  long  looked  for  and 
much  longed  for  daylight,  she,  as  I  said  before, 
was  stricken  down  with  a  bilious  fever.  She 
was  rooming  with  a  young  grass  widow  who 
worked  in  a  millinery  store — the  milliner 
furnishing  the  room  and  Clara  occupying  it 
with  her  to  save  expenses.  They  were  in  the 
house  of  an  old  widow  lady  who  was  so  deaf 


338  PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS 

that  she  could  not  distinguish  between  the 
noise  of  a  cannon  and  a  church  choir.  She 
wore  wool  in  her  ears  and  carried  a  tin  trumpet 
about  three  feet  long. 

Miss  Clara  was  very  sick.  Her  sickness 
was  not  dangerous,  but  painful. 

At  my  second  visit  the  old  lady  met  me  in 
the  hall — tin  trumpet  in  hand  and  ears  full  of 
wool.  If  she  had  had  the  best  ear  trumpet 
that  was  ever  invented  she  couldn't  have  heard 
thunder  through  those  dense  wads  of  wool. 

She  had  the  flat  voice  peculiar  to  deaf 
people  and  used  the  staccatoed  interrogatory, 
"hah?"  after  everything  that  was  said  to  her. 

She  came  at  me  sidewise,  with  that  exag- 
gerated dinner  horn  to  her  ear,  and  almost 
knocked  me  over  with  it  before  I  could  make 
out  what  it  was. 

"Doctor,  you  are  tendin'  on  Miss  Clara, 
ain't  you?  hah?"  (staccato  "hah!") 

"Yes,  madam,"  I  answered. 

"Hah?"  and  she  ran  at  me  sidewise  with 
the  abominable  old  horn  again. 

I  dodged  it  and  said,  "Yes,  madam,  I  am 
attending  her." 

She  shoved  that  horn  at  me  again  (always 
as  if  she  were  trying  to  jab  me  in  the  face  with 
it)  and  said, 

"  Doctor,  I'll  hab  to  ask  you  to  talk  through 
by  truppet,  ads  I  ab  quite  deef.  Dow  ted 
be."  (Now  tell  me.) 

I  timidly  caught  the  long  tin  tube  by  the 
big  end  and  peered  down  it,  saw  the  bunch  of 
wool  in  her  ear,  and  asked: 

"What  is  it  you  want  to  know?" 

"Hah?    What  ab  I  goig  to  do?' 


339 

(Very  loud)  "No,  ma'am,  what  is  it  you 
want  to  know?" 

"Oh,  yes;  what  is  it  I  want  to  do?  Wed, 
det  be  see;  oh,  yes,  ids  she  very  sick?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"Hah?  a  dittle  douder,  please." 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"Hah?" 

"YES,  MA'AM." 

"Oh,  yeds.  Wed,  det  be  see oh,  yeds, 

do  you  thick  she'll  be  sick  very  log?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Hah?" 

I  scream  "I  don't  know." 

"Oh,  yes,  wed- 

And  while  she  is  getting  ready  to  fire  another 
question  I  drop  my  end  of  the  horn  and  run 
up  stairs. 

I  found  the  poor  girl  quite  sick — high  tem- 
perature, bounding  pulse,  headache,  back- 
ache and  vomiting.  She  told  me  with  tears 
in  her  eyes  that  she  was  afraid  she  was  going 
to  have  trouble,  as  the  old  lady  didn't  want 
her  in  her  house  while  she  was  sick,  as  she 
was  afraid  it  would  interfere  with  her  renting 
other  rooms,  and,  worse  still,  the  milliner  was 
pouting  because  she  (Clara)  had  groaned  and 
retched  all  night  and  had  kept  "her  grass- 
ship"  from  sleeping. 

I  calmed  her  fears,  prescribed  for  her  and 
went  away — escaping  the  old  woman,  the  tin 
horn  and  the  wool,  on  my  way  out. 

The  next  day  the  old  woman  was  on  the 
look  out  for  me,  trumpet  in  hand,  and  more 
wool  in  her  ears  than  before.  She  sidled  up, 
like  a  hog  going  to  war,  and  scared  me  by 


340  PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS 

jamming  the  flanged  end  of  her  old  tin  horn 
in  my  face  again. 

"Doctor,  that  gad  is  awfud  sick,  do't  you 
thick  she  ids?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"Hah!" 

" Yes,  ma'am" 

"Hah?" 

"YES,  MA'AM." 

"Wed,  doctor,  whed  do  you  thick  you  cad 
boove  her?" 

"I  can't  move  her  at  all." 

"Hah?" 

"I  can't  move  her  at  all"  (very  loud). 

"You  wid  boove  her  id  to  the  hawd  (hall); 
ids  that  what  you  said?" 

(Sotto  voce)  "Oh,  you  old  mummy!  how  I 
would  enjoy  throwing  you  into  the  horse  pond, 
tin  horn  and  all,"  and  she  jammed  the  flange 
under  my  mustache  again,  almost  knocking 
out  my  frontal  incisors,  and  said, 

"Hah?     What  did  you  say?" 

I  seized  the-horn  with  both  hands  and  yelled, 

"Nothing!" 

"Hah?" 

"Nothing!" 

"Whed  did  you  say  you  could  boove  her? 
Hah?" 

All  this  time  I  had  held  the  big  end  of  the 
horn  in  both  hands  and  the  old  lady  had  the 
small  end  to  her  ear  with  one  hand  and  we 
had  been  going  around  and  around  in  the  hall 
like  two  fighting  roosters,  she  looking  at  me  all 
the  time  with  that  intense  listening  expression 
on  her  face,  and  I  getting  red  in  the  face  and 
yelling  like  a  fire  chief  at  a  big  fire. 


PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS 


341 


"7  carft  move  her"  I  yelled. 

"Hah?" 

"I  CAN'T  MOVE  HER,"  I  screamed. 

"Hah?     Dalk  a  dittle  dowder." 

I  grasped  the  thing  tighter,  jammed  it  into 
the  wad  of  wool,  tip  toed  and  ran  my  mouth, 
moustache  and  nose  into  the  funnel  end  and 


I  CAN'T  MOVE  HER 

screamed  almost  loud  enough  to  rupture  her 
tympanic  membrane, 

"I  CAN'T  MOVE  HER!" 

She  looked  at  me  with  that  intense,  greedy, 
listening  look  and  said. 

"Hah?     Dalk  a  dittle  dowder!" 

I  dropped  the  horn  and  it  struck  the  hall 
floor  with  a  whang,  and  looking  at  the  old 
woman  with  a  frown  and  a  deprecating  ges- 


342  PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS 

ture,  I  shook  my  head  until  I  almost  loosened 
rny  teeth: 

"Oh,  go  'way!  go  'way!"  and  ran  up  the 
stairs.  As  I  did  so  she  raised  her  trumpet  with 
a  beseeching  look  and  said, 

"Hah?" 

I  reached  my  patient's  room  and  sat  down 
and  mopped  my  face,  for  I  was  perspiring 
profusely  and  was  as  tired  as  if  I  had  been 
wallowing  in  a  puddle  with  a  rhinoceros. 

My  patient  was  badly  demoralized.  She 
was  still  very  sick  and  she  told  me,  with  much 
agitation  and  many  tears,  that  the  old  lady 
wanted  her  to  get  out;  fearing  that  if  she 
remained  it  would  injure  her  house;  and  that 
the  milliner  had  grown  obstreperous  and  said, 

"She  must  get  out,  for  she  just  could  not 
stand  it  to  work  all  day  and  lay  awake  all 
night." 

I  told  her  that  they  could  not  and  should 
not  move  her;  that  I  would  see  to  it  personally 
that  they  did  not,  and  that  she  might  calm  her 
fears  on  that  point.  I  advised  her  to  be  quiet, 
take  her  medicine,  say  but  little  and  bide  her 
time. 

She  raised  up  in  bed  on  her  elbow,  and 
with  her  big,  blue  eyes  swimming  in  tears, 
said: 

"Please,  Doctor  King,  look  after  me  and 
protect  me;  for  I  am  so  sick;  and  you  know  I 
have  been  raised  almost  entirely  by  myself 
and  I  don't  know  a  thing  about  girls.  This 
is  the  first  girl  I  ever  roomed  with." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "my  dear  child,  I  have  very 
little  advantage  of  you  there,  for  I  never  roomed 
with  but  one  girl  either," 


PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS  343 

She  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh  and  I  left 
her.  As  I  went  through  the  hall  I  dropped 
this  note  into  the  old  lady's  room: 

"MRS.  - 

Please  do  not  talk  to  Miss  Clara.  You 
worry  her.  Keep  out  of  her  room. 

THE  DOCTOR." 

Then  I  drove  to  the  millinery  store.  I  went 
in  and  inquired  if  Mrs.  Bangles  worked  there. 
Yes,  she  worked  there  and  was  in.  I  asked  to 
see  her  and  she  came  out  looking  somewhat 
surprised. 

"I  am  Dr.  King,  Mrs.  Bangles,  and  I — " 

"Oh,  yes,  you  are  the  doctor  that's  tending 

on    Miss    Clara   and    you    are   the    very 

person  I  want  to  see,  for  I  want  to  know  when 
you  can  move  - 

I  raised  a  hand  and  said, 

"Just  one  minute,  Mrs.  Bangles,  please; 
you  are  laboring  under  a  grave  mistake;  I  am 
not  the  transfer  man;  I  am  not  engaged  in 
moving  people;  I  am  a  physician." 

She  looked  at  me  in  wide  eyed  wonder. 

"Well,  you  will  have  to  take  her  away  for 
I  did  not  get  a  single  bit  of  sleep  last  night, 
for  she  just  groaned  and  — " 

I  raised  my  hand  and  checked  her  again, 
for  she  was  growing  excited  and  talking  loud, 

"S-s-sh,"  I  said,  "don't  talk  so  loud  or 
people  will  find  out  that  you  have  a  temper. 
Now,  I  came  to  say  this:  The  girl  is  too  sick 
to  be  moved.  She  can't  be  moved.  It  is  im- 
possible. To  move  her  now  may  kill  her. 
If  you  force  her  out  of  that  room  and  away 
from  that  house  and  she  should  die,  her  death 
will  be  laid  at  your  door.  It  will  be  in  every- 


344  PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS 

body's  mouth,  the  newspapers  will  get  hold  of 
it  and  they  will  write  you  up  as  the  most 
inhuman  wretch  that  ever  lived.  They  will 
call  you  'The  Woman  Fiend,'  the  'Female 
Murderess,'  and  you  will  have  to  flee  from 
public  indignation  as  you  would  from  a  con- 
tagion, and  wherever  you  go  the  story  will 
follow  you,  and  you  will  ever  hereafter  lead  a 
pursued,  helpless,  hopeless,  blasted  life,  which 
will  be  worse  than  death." 

I  watched  her  countenance  while  I  was  mak- 
ing this  terrible  array  of  the  things  that  would 
occur  in  case  she  turned  the  girl  sick  out. 
Her  face  took  on  a  ghastly  pallor  and  she  made 
several  ineffectual  efforts  to  swallow  something 
which  seemed  to  have  come  into  her  throat, 
and  after  staggering  up  and  resting  one  hand 
on  the  counter  she  asked  in  a  choked  voice, 

"Well,  what  am  I  to  do?" 

"Do  anything,  Mrs.  Bangles,"  I  answered, 
"except  to  be  cruel.  Cruelty  is  no  part  of  your 
nature.  You  are  a  good  woman,  but  you  just 
haven't  thought.  Think  this  matter  over  ser- 
iously. Think  how  you  would  like  to  be 
treated  if  you  were  in  her  place.  If  you  ever 
pray  go  and  say  your  prayers  tonight,  and 
after  you  get  through  sit  down  and  imagine 
that  the  great  God  is  looking  right  into  your 
heart,  and  then  think  what  you  ought  to  do 
and  decide  what  you  will  do.  Remember,  I 
insist  that  you  are  a  good  woman,  and  you 
will  have  to  prove  to  the  contrary  before  I  will 
believe  otherwise." 

I  left  her.  When  I  called  the  next  morn- 
ing I  found  my  patient  without  fever  and  full 
of  surprise. 


PEOPLE  WHO  ANNOY  DOCTORS  345 

"'What  do  you  suppose  has  come  over  Mrs. 
Bangles?"  she  asked. 

"I  don't  know,"  I  answered,  "why  do  you 
ask?" 

"Why,"  she  went  on,  "when  she  came 
home  last  night  she  brought  me  some  lemons 
and  made  me  a  lemonade.  She  gave  me  a 
sponge  bath  and  then  sat  by  me  and  bathed 
my  face  and  put  cool  cloths  on  my  forehead 
and  changed  them  every  few  minutes.  She 
talked  just  as  kind  and  called  me  'dear*  and 
kissed  me.  Why,  I  never  saw  such  a  change! 
When  I  went  to  sleep  she  was  still  by  the  bed; 
and,  I  must  have  slept  very  sound  for  when 
I  awoke  this  morning  I  found  that  she  had 
lain  down  beside  me  and  was  asleep  with  her 
face  right  against  mine.  She  must  have  been 
crying,  for  my  face  and  hers  were  both  wet 
with  tears  from  her  eyes." 

"Oh,"  I  said,  "Miss  Clara,  at  first  she 
thought  of  herself  only;  then  she  acted  selfishly, 
as  people  who  think  of  themselves  only  always 
do;  then  she  thought  of  you,  and  then  she 
acted  unselfishly.  Her  true  woman's  nature 
came  to  the  rescue  and-  she  acted  her  true, 
good  self.  She  has  learned  a  good  lesson  and 
it  will  do  her  good.  You  must  be  grateful  and 
love  her  and  let  her  know  that  you  do." 

So  my  patient  did  not  move  at  all. 

These  are  the  exceptional  cases.  My  ex- 
perience has  been  that  most  people  are  kind 
to  the  sick.  The  very  best  that  is  in  human 
nature  comes  to  the  front  when  we  are  in  the 
presence  of  the  sick,  the  suffering  and  the 
dying.  This  is  especially  true  when  we  see 
the  helpless  and  the  unfortunate  sick  and 


346 

suffering,  who  need  our  care  and  sympathy. 
Human  nature  is  very  good  after  all.  There 
is  much  that  is  brave  and  good,  tender  and 
true  in  men  and  women,  if  there  is  only  an 
opportunity  to  bring  it  out.  Some  people 
need  opportunity  and  occasion  to  bring  out 
their  good  points  just  as  others  may  need 
opportunity  and  occasion  in  which  to  display 
their  courage  or  some  other  great  quality. 
When  once  brought  out,  it  grows  stronger  all 
the  time.  In  other  words,  the  better  part  of 
our  natures — charity,  forgiveness,  liberality  and 
all — need  to  be  exercised  in  order  to  be  strong, 
just  as  our  muscles  and  our  brains  need  to  be 
exercised  in  order  to  develop  and  grow  strong. 
In  this  life  the  things  that  lie  still  must  perish; 
the  things  that  are  active,  that  move,  are  the 
things  that  live  and  grow. 

I  have  never  seen  the  milliner  since,  but  I 
know  the  circumstance  must  have  been  of 
lasting  benefit  to  her.  I  hope  it  may  land  her 
safely  in  Heaven.  I  do  not  know  what  the 
effect  was  on  the  deaf  old  landlady.  She 
couldn't  hear  enough  to  learn  much.  She  was, 
practically,  a  dead  stump.  But  when  she 
gets  to  the  pearly  gates,  if  she  must  undergo 
an  examination  before  she  can  enter,  I  do 
hope  that  she  will  not  put  up  that  old  tin  trum- 
pet and  say, 

"Hah?" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE? 


HELPING  THE  DOCTOR  OR  OTHERWISE — A  SEC- 
OND MARRIAGE  AND  A  MOTHERLESS  CHILD 
— THE  RESULT  OF  DEVELOPING  ONE  SIDE  OF 
THE  FAMILY — JANUARY  AND  MAY — DID  HE 
KILL  HIS  WIFE? 

'N   our    practice,   or- 
,,dinarily,  we  have  the 
.helpful  assistance   of 
the  family  and  friends 
of  the  patient.     This 
is    necessary    to    the 
well-being    and  ulti- 
mate recovery  of  the 
sick   one,  as  well  as 
to  the  success  of  the 
doctor.      But  this  is 
•  not  always  the   case. 
As  strange  as  it  may 

seem  there  are  cases  in  which  we  find  opposing 
forces.  Somebody  does  not  desire  that  the 
patient  shall  recover;  and  while,  as  a  rule,  they 
are  not  mean  enough,  or  are  too  cowardly  to 
administer  anything  which  would  hasten  the 
patient's  taking  off,  yet  they  oppose  you  in 
little  ways.  They  saw  something  during  your 
absence  which  contra-indicated  the  medicine 
and  they  did  not  administer  it.  They  are 
slow  to  do  the  little  things  which  you  order 


348  DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE 

to  be  done,  and  which  are  often  so  essential 
to  success.  Here  is  a  case: 

A  man  marries  the  second  time.  He  has 
one  child  by  his  first  wife — a  little,  sickly,  cross, 
pitiful  thing.  The  second  wife  is  a  selfish 
woman,  and  let  me  say  right  here,  that  no 
thoroughly  selfish  woman  ever  loved  another 
woman's  child.  She  has  a  nose  which  is  high 
across  the  bridge,  a  strong  under  jaw  and  a 
projecting  chin,  thin  lips  and  a  mouth  slightly 
turned  down  at  the  corners.  She  keeps  her 
mouth  tightly  shut,  except  when  at  war,  and, 
when  in  ill  humor,  she  shoves  the  under  lip 
up  in  the  center,  which  results  in  giving  the 
mouth  a  crescent  curve.  She  is  straight  up 
and  down  on  the  back  of  her  head,  or,  in  other 
words,  she  has  not  that  great  anterio-poste- 
rior  length  of  crown  which  phrenologists  say 
denotes  the  motherly  instinct. 

In  time  she  has  a  baby  of  her  own.  She 
would  not  do  this  except  for  two  reasons:  First, 
she  wants  something  which  will  furnish  an 
excuse  for  pushing  the  child  of  the  first  wife 
aside  and  at  the  same  time  win  the  affections 
of  the  husband  and  father  from  his  first  born; 
and,  secondly,  she  could  not  help  it.  The 
stepchild  is  at  once  driven  to  the  kitchen  and 
there  it  remains.  It  is  neglected,  starved, 
abused  and  beaten.  From  exposure  and  neg- 
lect it  at  last  grows  sick.  It  is  still  neglected, 
but  finally  reaches  such  a  condition  that  "a 
decent  respect  for  the  opinions  of  mankind" 
compels  the  cruel  stepmother  and  the  pliant 
nobody  of  a  father  to  send  for  a  doctor.  Now, 
here  is  a  case  in  which  you  are  handicapped 
from  the  very  beginning. 


DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE  349 

The  stepmother  desires  that  the  child  shall 
die.  It  is  in  the  way — in  the  way  as  to  its 
actual  presence  and  everyday  needs,  and  will 
be  in  the  way  of  her  child  when  the  property 
shall  be  inherited.  The  father  is  passive, 
mentally  myopic,  stupid  and  reasonably  obe- 
dient. The  prospect  is  that  you  will  lose  the 
little  patient.  The  angels  pity  the  poor  little 
thing  and  mercifully  come  and  take  it  home 
to  its  own  dear  mother's  breast. 

Here  is  another  case: 

An  old  and  wealthy  citizen  grows  sick. 
He  has  been  a  grinder  in  his  day  and  has  ac- 
cumulated wealth  enough  to  ruin  his  sons 
and  to  invite  heartless  rascals  to  marry  his 
daughters.  The  sons  are  shiftless  spendthrifts, 
the  sons-in-law  are  greedy  and  the  old  man 
is  miserly  and  tough.  He  should  have  died 
long  ago  according  to  the  natural  course  of 
things,  but  he  is  tenacious  of  life  and  refuses 
to  die — the  ungrateful  old  wretch. 

The  daughters  may  be  good  and  dutiful, 
but  there  will  be  a  row  if  they  attempt  to  assist 
you  in  an  intelligent  way.  The  sons  and  the 
sons-in-law  sit  around  and  scowl;  are  not  in 
favor  of  anything  in  particular  but  are  opposed 
to  everything  in  general.  I  can  not  conceive 
of  anything  in  human  shape  that  is  more 
contemptible  than  a  stout,  able-bodied  man 
sitting  around  waiting  for  somebody  to  die. 

If  you  expect  to  save  the  old  man  you  had 
better  hire  a  nurse  and  order  everybody  else, 
in  plain  terms,  to  "Hands  off." 

Case  III: 

A  couple  get  married  when  they  are  very 
young.  They  are  matched  in  every  way  as 


350  DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE 

to  education,  property  and  social  advantages. 
They  are  in  moderate  circumstances,  but  they 
toil  on  together.  The  husband  has  a  good 
brain,  becomes  a  student  and  develops  into 
a  strong  man  mentally.  He  may  choose  a 
profession  and  even  become  distinguished 
amongst  his  fellows.  What  has  the  wife  been 
doing  all  this  time  ?  She  has  been  doing  house- 
hold drudgery  and  bearing  children — one  every 
eighteen  months.  The  strain  on  her  consti- 
tution has  been  great.  The  rapid  revolution 
of  her  maternal  functions  has  taken  all  the 
life  out  of  her.  She  grows  sickly,  loses  her 
teeth,  is  wrinkled,  slab-sided,  jaded  and  worn 
out  generally,  and,  withal,  is  ignorant.  The 
husband  has  gone  forward  and  upward  in 
letters;  she  has  gone  backward  and  down- 
ward. She  never  goes  into  society  and  sees 
nobody.  He  goes  everywhere  and  sees  every- 
body. She  has  grown  prematurely  old  and 
homely.  He  is  yet  young,  and  handsomer 
than  when  they  were  married.  Nobody  ad- 
mires her.  Everybody  admires  him.  The  men 
say: 

"  Charlie  is  as  smart  as  a  whip  and  a  splendid 
fellow." 

The  women  say: 

"Oh,  so  intellectual  and  handsome,  and  such 
a  homely  old  wife.  I  wonder  how  he  ever 
came  to  marry  her?" 

Now,  this  may  be  a  rare  case.  It  is  rare, 
in  fact;  but  the  writer,  in  his  limited  experi- 
ence, has  seen  more  than  one  like  it.  At  last 
the  poor,  worn  out  wife  and  mother  grows 
sick.  She  has  done  her  duty,  served  her 
time,  and  the  angels  are  calling  her,  too. 


DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE  351 

Now  Charlie  is  rich  and  ambitious  and 
he  knows  that  he  can  marry  again.  He  can 
marry  a  young,  handsome  and  well  educated 
woman;  one  who  will  be  more  in  sympathy 
with  him,  whom  he  can  take  into  society  and 
"show  off,"  and  who  will  help  him  in  his  am- 
bitious schemes.  He  could  not  do  this  with 
his  poor,  worn  out  first  love.  The  reader 
now  raises  an  objection  and  says  I  make  hu- 
manity too  bad.  I  am  not  writing  about 
the  rule,  dear  reader;  I  am  giving  the  excep- 
tions. Humanity  is  not  all  bad,  thank  God. 
I  believe  that  men  and  women  are  falling  up- 
ward every  day;  but  many  are  falling  the 
other  way.  The  burglars  and  thieves  are  not 
all  the  bad  ones  that  this  world  holds,  and 
some  of  the  worst  of  humanity  never  see  the 
inside  of  a  jail  and  are  never  punished.  There 
are  murderers  who  never  wield  a  knife,  pistol 
or  bludgeon,  but  who  commit  murder  by 
looking  on  and  wishing. 

Now,  if  he  is  a  thoroughly  worldly,  am- 
bitious and  selfish  man,  do  you  think  he  will 
struggle  very  hard  to  "pull  the  old  woman 
through?"  I  fear  not.  -If  he  is  a  good  man 
he  will  still  love  and  cherish  her  and  desire 
her  recovery;  but  if  he  be  the  first  you  will 
not  have  his  moral  support  in  your  battle  for 
the  life  of  the  wife  and  mother. 

I  have  seen  other  cases  like  this: 

A  young  girl  marries  a  decrepit  old  man 
for  his  money.  She  is  young,  foolish  and 
poor.  He  is  old,  foolish  and  rich.  Here's  a 
match.  He  wants  a  young  wife  against  the 
peach  bloom  of  whose  cheek  he  can  lay  his 
withered  and  scraggy  old  jaw.  He  dotes  on 


352 


DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE 


her,  buys  her  everything  and  pets  her.  She 
tolerates  and  waits  for  death  to  come  and 
claim  his  own,  when  she  expects  to  enjoy  life. 
Death  does  come  at  last  and  calls  upon  the 
poor,  foolish  old  codger  to  "kick  the  bucket." 
I  have  seen  those  heartless  and  almost  headless 
young  fillies  flit  about  the  house  in  a  restless 


DEATH  DOES  COME,  AT  LAST 

way  and  look  in  occasionally  as  if  to  note  how 
near  they  are  to  "pay  day" — the  "pay  day" 
for  which  they  sold  themselves  in  their  beau- 
tiful and  gushing  young  girlhood;  and,  when 
the  last  hour  came  and  the  toothless  old  mar- 
iner was  heading  for  the  "shining  shore,"  I 
have  seen  those  same  heartless  things  stand 
around  and  hump  and  shrug  their  shoulders 
and  try  to  squeeze  the  bag  of  their  affections 
for  just  a  little  lachrymal  moisture;  but  never 
a  tear. 

I  have  never  had  but  one  case  in  which  I 
felt  sure  that  my  patient  was  killed  outright 


DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE  353 

while  under  my  treatment;  but  I  am  so  sure 
of  it  that  I  am  going  to  tell  about  it. 

In  my  early  practice  in  a  southwest  Mis- 
souri town  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  man 
whom  I  shall  call  Jack.  Jack  came  west 
from  Pennsylvania  in  the  great  immigration 
after  our  late  civil  war.  He  was  a  shoemaker 
by  trade  and  a  born  villain.  He  was  born  and 
reared  in  the  slums  of  London.  He  was  about 
five  feet  four  in  height,  bow-legged,  hump- 
shouldered,  snaggle-toothed,  and  had  a  face 
as  mean  as  old  Quilp's.  He  was  up  in  dog 
fights,  cock  fights,  prize  fights  and  all  manner 
of  brutal  and  inhuman  meanness.  He  took 
the  lowest  class  of  illustrated  papers  and  sat 
and  gloated  over  their  bloody  records  and 
obscene  pictures  by  the  hour.  He  kept  one 
of  those  white,  English  bull  dogs  for  his  in- 
separable companion.  The  dog  had  a  head 
on  him  like  a  sausage  grinder,  a  split  in  his 
upper  lip  through  which  his  teeth  shone,  and 
his  tail  looked  like  an  animated  and  abbreviated 
crow-bar.  When  you  entered  Jack's  shop  and 
found  him  on  his  bench  with  "Bill"  (that  was 
the  dog's  name)  sitting  by  his  side,  you  mentally 
exclaimed:  "Twins!  as  sure  as  I  am  alive!" 

There  was  a  prize  fight  in  our  county  once. 
The  parties  had  come  over  from  Kansas  to 
avoid  arrest.  The  news  got  out  the  day  be- 
fore in  some  way,  and  while  there  were  several 
who  would  have  enjoyed  the  fight,  Jack  was 
the  only  one  from  our  town  who  reached  it 
in  time.  He  arose  early  in  the  morning, 
mounted  a  pony  and  went,  by  what  could  be 
called  nothing  else  than  brute  instinct,  direct 
to  the  spot. 


354  DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE 

His  wife  was  just  his  opposite.  She  was 
a  large,  splendid  blonde,  taller  than  the  average 
woman,  weighed  one  hundred  and  sixty  or 
seventy  pounds;  had  blonde  hair,  large,  beau- 
tiful blue  eyes,  and  as  fair  a  complexion  as 
man  ever  beheld.  She  would  have  been  called 
a  pretty  woman  anywhere  on  the  earth. 

She  was  not  highly  educated,  but  had  had 
some  advantages,  for  a  poor  girl,  in  the  public 
schools  of  her  Eastern  home,  and  was  not 
wholly  ignorant.  The  first  time  I  ever  saw 
her  she  was  suffering  from  "a  fit  of  gravel"— 
the  passage  of  a  nephritic  calculus  from  the 
kidney  to  the  bladder.  It  is  a  painful  trouble 
and  as  it  was  the  first  case  of  the  kind  that 
I  had  ever  seen  I  took  some  credit  to  myself 
for  having  made  a  correct  diagnosis — the  pain 
ceasing  suddenly  when  the  calculus  reached 
its  journey's  end,  as  I  had  predicted.  After 
this  I  became  Jack's  family  physician.  I  do 
not  remember  to  have  had  much  to  do  in 
the  family  until  the  summer  of  1870.  This 
was  a  year  in  which  we  had  an  unusual  amount 
of  sickness  in  the  Southwest.  The  country 
was  new,  much  prairie  had  been  broken,  the 
streams  all  overflowed  their  banks  in  June 
and  the  summer  was  intensely  hot. 

I  was  riding  day  and  night,  the  prevailing 
sickness  being  just  what  one  would  expect 
from  the  conditions — severe  types  of  bilious 
and  intermittent  fevers;  the  latter  taking  on 
the  pernicious  or  congestive  forms.  Mrs.  Jack 
was  stricken  down  right  in  the  midst  of  my 
busiest  season.  Her  case  did  not  differ  in 
any  material  degree  from  other  cases  that  I 
saw  every  day — a  day  or  two  of  malaise,  back- 


DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE  355 

ache,  headache,  boneache,  a  sudden  chill 
followed  by  a  rapid  rise  of  temperature  and 
bilious  vomiting.  One  to  three  visits  generally 
sufficed  for  the  worst  case.  A  dose  of  anti- 
bilious  powder  or  pills,  followed  by  heroic 
doses  of  quinine  did  the  work  in  short  order. 

But  Jack's  wife  did  not  improve.  I  gave 
her  the  same  treatment,  in  the  main,  that  I 
had  given  others,  but  there  came  up  vague 
and  indefinite  symptoms  which  I  could  neither 
meet  nor  comprehend.  After  this  state  of 
things  had  continued  for  several  days  I  was 
baffled  and  asked  for  a  consultation.  Jack 
did  not  want  a  consultation;  had  all  confidence 
in  me  and  desired  me  to  continue.  Thus 
flattered  and  encouraged  I  fought  on.  As  I 
left  the  house  one  afternoon  Jack  asked  me: 

"When  will  you  be  back,  Dare.?"  (He 
always  called  me  "Darc.':  for  "Doc."). 

I  answered  that  I  would  try  to  be  there 
at  nine  o'clock  the  next  day. 

I  was  called  to  the  country  during  the 
night,  and  being  detained  did  not  reach  town 
until  eleven  o'clock  the  next  forenoon.  Dusty 
and  hot  as  I  was  I  drove  directly  to  Jack's 
residence.  In  approaching  the  house  I  saw 
no  sign  of  life  or  living  thing  about  the  premises. 
When  I  entered  I  found  Mrs.  Jack  alone, 
unconscious  and  speechless.  She  was  cold 
as  ice  to  her  elbows  and  knees  and  was  bathed 
in  a  profuse,  clammy  perspiration.  Going 
quickly  to  the  bed  I  took  hold  of  her  arm  and 
found  it  pulseless.  I  went  at  once  to  a  cross 
fence  and  called  two  or  three  neighboring 
ladies,  sent  a  boy  for  a  consulting  physician, 
and,  learning  that  Jack  was  at  "the  shop,'' 


356  DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE 

I  sent  another  for  him.  The  women  began 
making  mustard  draughts  under  my  direction 
while  I  tried  to  get  some  diffusible  stimulus 
down  the  patient.  In  this  I  failed  as  she 
either  could  not  or  would  not  swallow.  In 
a  few  minutes  I  saw  Jack  coming  through 
the  gate  with  that  slipping,  shambling,  un- 
certain gait  which  was  characteristic  of  him. 
He  came  in  looking  pale  and  anxious  and, 


"HA,  HA,  HA,  HA-A-A-A-Al" 

instead  of  going  directly  to  the  bed  and  speak- 
ing to  his  wife,  he  sidled  over  to  an  old  stool, 
with  an  inquiring,  guilty  look  on  his  face,  (Oh, 
how  plainly  I  can  see  it  now!)  and  sat  down. 
"How  is  she,  Dare.?" 
I  informed  him  of  her  dangerous  condition 
When  she  heard  his  voice  she  seemed  to. 
be    momentarily    aroused    from    the    state    of 
unconsciousness   in    which   I    had    found    her. 
She  turned  her  head  and  glared  slowly  about 
until  she  located  him,  then  seemingly  gather- 
ing all  her  waning  strength  in  one  last  effort 
she  threw  her  feet  out  of  the  bed,  and  before 
any  of  us  had  sufficient  presence  of  mind  to 


DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE  357 

arrest  her,  she  came  to  a  sitting  posture,  slid 
out  of  bed  and  walked  straight  to  him.  She 
stooped  and  shook  her  finger  in  his  face  and 
laughed  the  wildest,  weirdest  and  most  blood- 
curdling laugh  that  I  ever  heard  or  ever  ex- 
pect to  hear  again— "ha,  ha,  ha,  ha-a-a-a-a;" 
and  then,  staggering,  would  have  fallen,  had 
I  not  caught  her.  Two  of  the  ladies  assisted 
me  in  getting  her  into  bed  again,  while  Jack 
sat  like  one  frozen  to  his  seat. 

She  died  in  less  than  two  hours. 

Well,  the  woman  was  dead  and  the  strangest 
thing  about  the  case  was  that  I  had  not  been 
able  to  understand  it. 

Within  a  week  or  two  Jack  came  to  me 
with  one  of  the  blanks  of  the  Charter  Oak 
Insurance  Company,  of  New  York.  He  had 
a  thousand  dollar  policy  on  her  life  for  me 
to  fill  out  and  sign.  I  filled  it  out  and  signed 
it  and  still  did  not  suspect  Jack.  The  idea 
had  never  occurred  to  me  that  I  knew  a  man 
who  was  bad  enough  to  kill  his  wife.  I  had 
read  of  and  knew  there  were  such  men,  but 
I  thought  that  it  (like  the  lion  which  bites 
the  man's  head  off  in  the  menagerie)  always 
occurred  at  some  other  'town. 

While  filling  out  the  blank  I  incidentally 
asked  Jack  if  the  company  was  a  good  one. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  he,  "it  is  first  class.  I 
know,  because  I  had  a  thousand  dollars  on  my 
first  wife,  who  died  in  Williamsburg,  Penn- 
sylvania, and  they  paid  it  without  a  word." 

And  still,  young,  innocent  "greeny"  that 
I  was,  I  did  not  suspect  him. 

Within  a  few  weeks  I  heard,  incidentally, 
that  Jack  was  abusing  me.  Said  I  had  neg- 


358  DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE 

lected  his  wife — promised  to  come  at  nine 
o'clock  and  did  not  get  there  until  eleven;  did 
not  understand  the  case  and  had  poisoned  her. 

This  was  painful,  but  as  I  knew  that  every 
doctor  must  bear  this  sort  of  thing  when  ill 
success  attends  him,  I  tried  to  grin  and  bear 
it.  My  inclination  was  to  break  Jack's  head 
with  a  stick,  but  to  do  so  was  to  advertise  my 
own  failure,  and  give  prominence  to  and, 
perhaps,  excite  sympathy  for  a  scoundrel. 
So  I  gulped  down  my  rage  and  waited. 

Jack's  conduct  is  plain  enough  now.  If  a 
thief  steals  your  horse,  although  you  may  not 
know  it,  he  is  your  enemy  the  next  day.  Often 
when  men  commit  great  crimes,  although  the 
world  may  yet  be  in  ignorance  of  it,  they  at 
once  go  about  measures  whereby  they  may 
shift  it  on  some  one  else.  In  doing  so  they 
often  proclaim  their  own  guilt.  This  is  the 
secret  of  much  successful  detective  work. 

On  September  2oth,  1870,  I  started  to  New 
York  to  remain  all  winter.  I  went  via  Fort 
Scott,  Kansas,  and  via  the  Gulf  Road  to  Kan- 
sas City.  I  had  to  lie  over  at  Fort  Scott  for 
a  train,  and  learning  that  there  was  a  play  at 
"the  hall"  with  the  "local  talent"  of  the  town 
in  the  principal  characters,  I  went  with  some 
friends,  to  see  it.  As  I  took  my  seat  who 
should  I  see  but  Jack?  He  was  maudlin 
drunk  and  arose  with  a  grin  and  an  obsequious 
air  and  offered  his  hand. 

"How  are  you,  Dare.?" 

I  took  his  hand  and  he  arose  and  departed. 
During  the  play  there  was  a  commotion  behind 
me  near  the  top  of  the  stairway.  I  was  informed 
that  the  officers  were  putting  a  drunken  man 


DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE  359 

down  stairs.  When  the  play  was  over  and  I 
started  to  leave  the  hall  I  was  met  at  the  door 
by  two  carpenters  from  my  town  who  informed 
nie  that  Jack  had  presented  a  cocked  revolver 
at  my  back  with  the  declared  intention  of 
perforating  me,  but  his  hand  had  been  stayed 
by  a  policeman  who  disarmed  him  and  put 
him  out.  Upon  his  promising  to  behave  his 
weapon  had  been  restored  to  him  and  he  had 
been  given  his  liberty.  My  informant  did 
not  know  where  Jack  was  at  that  moment, 
but  thought  he  might  be  looking  for  me.  This 
was  not  pleasant.  I  prepared  myself  as  best 
I  could  from  my  scanty  armory  and  went 
down,  expecting  to  find  Jack  lying  in  wait  for 
me,  and  to  be  compelled  to  die  at  his  hands 
or  skillfully  sever  his  carotid  and  let  him  die 
for  me. 

But  Jack  did  not  materialize  and  I  went 
on  to  New  York.  A  few  days  after  arriving 
there  I  received  our  local  paper  in  which  I 
found  the  matter  referred  to  somewhat  after 
this  style: 

"We  regret  to  learn  that  our  fellow  towns- 
man, Dr.  Willis  P.  King,  came  near  losing  his 
life  at  the  hands  of  the  •  notorious  Jack  -  — , 
at  Fort  Scott,  on  the  night  of  the  2oth  inst. 
As  our  readers  know,  Dr.  King  started  to  New 
York  on  that  day,  to  be  absent  all  winter. 
Being  compelled  to  lie  over  for  a  train  at  Fort 
Scott  he  went  to  the  theatre  with  some  friends 

and  while  there  met  the  notorious  Jack  

of  this  place.  Jack  entertains  some  sort  of 
grudge  against  the  doctor  in  regard  to  the 
doctor's  treatment  of  his  wife  in  her  last  sick- 
ness. Becoming  enraged  when  he  saw  the 


360  DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE 

doctor  he  presented  a  cocked  revolver  to  the 
latter's  breast,  but  it  was  knocked  aside  just 
in  time  to  save  his  life,"  etc.,  ect. 

This  was  not  correct  as  to  details,  but  as 
near  the  truth  as  the  local  reporter  often  gets 
it.  Jack's  guilt  dawned  on  me  at  last.  I 
compared  his  pretended  sorrow  over  his  wife's 
death  with  the  cold,  formal  and  business 
manner  in  which  he  attended  to  the  collection 
of  her  life  insurance.  I  searched  for  a 
motive  for  his  enmity  toward  me,  and  found 
an  answer  in  his  own  guilt.  I  was  now  satis- 
fied that  this  villain  had  deliberately  poisoned 
his  wife  while  she  was  under  my  treatment 
in  order  to  get  the  insurance  money.  I  wrote 
a  statement  of  the  whole  matter  to  a  friend, 
in  which  I  openly  charged  Jack  with  wife 
murder  and,  requested  my  friend  to  have  it 
published;  but  he,  being  a  cool  and  cautious 
person,  and  fearing  that  I  might  lay  the  foun- 
dation for  a  suit  for  damages,  refused  to  do  so. 
I  "nursed  my  wrath  to  keep  it  warm,"  and 
waited. 

I  returned  home  in  March,  1871,  and 
after  kissing  wife  and  babies  and  eating  my 
dinner  I  went  up  town.  I  met  many  friends 
on  the  street  with  whom  I  must  shake  hands 
and  pass  a  word;  but,  shaking  them  off,  one 
by  one,  I  finally  made  my  way  to  Jack's  shop. 
Jack  was  sitting  at  his  work  with  the  "twin" 
in  his  accustomed  place,  looking  more  like 
Jack's  brother  than  ever  before.  As  I  entered 
Jack  arose  with  an  abashed  air,  and  grinning 
and  smirking,  offered  me  his  hand. 

"How  are  you,  Dare.?" 

I  put  my  hand  behind  me  and  said, 


DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE  361 

"No,  Jack,  you  can't  shake  that  hand  until 
you  have  explained  some  things." 

Then  drawing  the  clipping  from  the  home 
paper,  before  referred  to,  from  my  pocket,  I 
handed  it  to  him  with  the  question: 

"What  does  this  mean?" 

Jack  looked  at  it,  colored,  grinned,  twisted 
and  squirmed  and  then  delivered  himself 
after  this  manner: 

"Oh,  well,  Dare.,  you  know,  after  my 
wife  died  I  was  almost  crazy.  Hi  didn't  know 
w'at  I  was  doin'  'alf  the  time,  you  know.  Of 
corse  I  thought  you  didn't  come  has  soon  as 
you  hought  hon  the  day  she  died;  hand  I 
don't  know  w'at  hi  done  at  Fort  Scott.  Hi 
was  drunk,  you  knaw,  and  don't  remember 
hany-think.  Dare.,  you  must  forgive  me  hand 
look  hover  it?" 

I  asked  him  to  sit  down.  When  he  did 
so  the  "twin"  took  up  his  position  alongside 
and  I  was  more  than  ever  struck  with  the 
remarkable  resemblance  between  them.  As 
they  grew  older  they  grew  more  and  more 
like  brothers. 

I  opened  my  long  pent-up  batteries  after 
this  fashion: 

"I  heard  a  good  deal  about  what  you  were 
saying  about  me  before  I  went  away;  but  I 
paid  no  attention  to  it.  I  also  heard  of  your 
attempt,  or  pretended  attempt  to  assassinate  me 
at  Fort  Scott.  I  admit  that  I  did  not  under- 
stand your  wife's  case,  but  it  is  all  plain  to  me 
now.  You  have  said  that  she  was  poisoned 
and  that  I  did  it.  I  agree  with  you  in  one 
part  of  that  statement.  I  think  your  wife  was 
poisoned,  but  I  didn't  do  it.  I  know  who  did. 


362  DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE 

You  poisoned  your  wife,  Jack,  in  order  to  get 
the  insurance  money,  and  then  tried  to  throw 
suspicion  off  yourself  by  publicly  blaming  me. 

"Now,  if  you  open  your  mouth  about  me 
again;  if  you  even  so  much  as  crook  your 
finger  at  me,  I  will  either  have  you  arrested, 
or  I  will  blow  your  brains  out;  I  don't  care 
much  which.  I  am  prepared  to  blow  your 
brains  out  now,  if  you  are  not  very  quiet." 

In  all  my  life  I  have  never  seen  such  an 
exhibition  of  guilty  cowardice. 

"Oh,  now,  Dare.,  you  don't  think  hi  would 
do  that,  do  you?" 

"I  do  not  only  think  you  would,  but  I  feel 
sure  you  did,"  I  answered. 

He  begged  and  implored.  He  didn't  want 
such  a  scandal.  It  would  be  bad  for  both  of 
us,  and  he  thought  we  had  better  say  nothing 
more  about  it. 

And  so  we  parted. 

And  now  the  pale  faced  young  person  who 
has  been  reading  this  chapter  rises  up  and 
asks: 

"And  did  you  have  him  arrested?" 

No  I  did  not. 

"Why  not?" 

There  were  many  reasons:  Our  county 
was  in  the  district  that  had  been  burned  and 
depopulated  during  the  war.  Our  treasury 
was  empty  and  poor.  It  would  have  taken 
at  least  one  thousand  dollars  to  exhume  Mrs. 
Jack,  and  send  her  stomach  where  a  reliable 
chemical  analysis  could  be  made  and  then 
bring  the  chemist  to  our  court  to  testify.  I 
knew  that  our  court  could  not  make  the  appro- 
priation. I  was  too  poor  to  undertake  it;  and 


DID  HE  KILL  HIS  WIFE  363 

to  have  undertaken  it  and  made  a  failure — 
which  we  most  probably  would  have  done — 
would  have  set  Jack  at  liberty  with  the  sym- 
pathies of  the  community  in  his  favor  and  I 
would  have  been  disgraced  and  hurt  beyond 
recovery. 

Jack  was  already  married  again,  but  his 
wife  was  so  sickly  that  I  am  sure  he  could 
not  obtain  a  policy  on  her  life.  She  soon 
died  and  Jack  was  also  "gathered  to  his 
fathers,"  (if  he  ever  had  any)  and  to  his  vic- 
tims whom  I  am  sure  he  had.  I  say  "vic- 
tims" because  I  am  fully  persuaded  that  he 
had  also  poisoned  his  first  wife  at  Williams- 
burg,  Penn. 

I  do  not  know  what  became  of  "the  Twin," 
but  considering  the  time  that  has  elapsed  and 
the  average  age  of  dogs  I  am  led  to  hope  that 
he  also  has  been  "gathered  to  his  fathers." 
I  think  this  narrative  sufficiently  answers  the 
heading  of  the  chapter  in  the  affirmative. 

"Did  he  kill  his  wife?" 

I  think  he  did. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE 

NECESSITY  FOR  MORE  EDUCATION — THE  SOUTH- 
WEST— MY  OWN  TRIP — MY  ILL  FITTING 
CLOTHES — MY  PLUG  HAT  AND  THE  OLD 
MAID — MY  REVENGE — THE  OYSTER  SUPPER 
WITH  OBSERVATIONS  ON  THE  HEATHEN. 

HERE  is  noth- 
ing that  the 
aspiring  country 
doctor  looks  for- 
ward to  with 
more  eager  de- 
sire than  that  of 
being  able  to 
once  more  at- 
.".  tend  college  and 

"brighten    up." 

-r_r%"  He  has  received 
his  medical  edu- 
cation, perhaps, 
a|-  some  point 
where  clinical  advantages  were  not  good;  and 
while  he  had  medicine  in  all  its  departments 
pounded  into  him  day  by  day  in  didactic 
lectures,  yet,  he  has  not  seen  much  practice 
until  he  first  approached  the  bed  side  unaided 
and  alone.  He  has  practiced  for  years,  has 
pored  over  volume  after  volume  of  medical 
lore  and  thereby  learned  a  great  deal.  There 
are  weak  points  in  his  practice,  however;  there 


GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE  365 

are  great  mysteries  attached  to  the  cases  of 
people  who  have  died  which  he  desires  to 
have  cleared  up.  He  wants  to  learn  surgery 
and  something  of  the  specialties.  So,  year 
after  year  he  promises  himself  that  he  will  go 
East  and  take  another  course. 

Finally  he  does  get  ready.  He  packs  his 
clothing  and  his  books  and  starts  for  the  nearest 
point  on  the  nearest  railroad.  He  feels  queer. 
He  knows  that  he  is  going  amongst  a  people 
who  have  always  lived  in  the  metropolis. 
They  are  supposed  to  be  learned  about  the 
ways  of  the  world,  to  be  dressy,  and  smart  in 
all  things  which  pertain  to  life  and  business. 
As  he  approaches  the  great  city  to  which  he 
is  going  he  feels  more  and  more  queer  ana  out 
of  joint  with  the  world.  He  discovers  that 
they  do  not  wear  clothes  like  his,  and,  if  he 
looks  closely  he  will  find  that  people  on  the 
cars  are  pointing  at  him  and  smiling  occasion- 
ally. He  thinks  he  will  go  out  on  the  plat- 
form of  the  car  and  avoid  criticism  for  a  while 
for  he  knows  that  he  is  being  criticised.  As 
he  rises  he  treads  on  the  spittoon  and,  in  try- 
ing to  recover  himself,  he  stumbles  and  almost 
falls  over  an  old  woman's  satchel  and  his  hat 
falls  off.  In  trying  to  recover  his  hat  he  runs 
the  end  of  a  car  seat  into  the  capacious  pocket 
of  his  linen  duster  and  tears  it  out.  He  goes 
out  and  stands  on  the  platform  and  hates  him- 
self for  being  so  awkward. 

It  is  amusing  to  sit  in  the  lecture  rooms  of 
the  great  schools  in  those  Eastern  cities  and 
see  the  new  fellows  come  in.  You  can  tell 
those  from  the  far  West  and  Southwest  the 
moment  you  see  them.  Their  dress  is  so 


366  GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE 

outlandish  and  their  manners  so  awkward  that 
one  would  think  that  they  could  not  possibly 
learn  anything.  And  yet  you  will  find  many 
brainy  fellows  amongst  them.  Tennessee  and 
Arkansas  and  southwest  Missouri  used  to 
send  the  hardest  looking  lot  on  first  appear- 
ance of  any  states  in  the  Union;  but  in  two 
months  they  would  have  their  hair  cut,  put  on 
Eastern  style  clothing  and  generally  proved  in 
the  end  to  be  the  smartest  men  in  the  class. 
They  almost  always  worked  like  beavers  and 
when  the  time  came  to  be  examined  they 
acquitted  themselves  with  the  very  highest 
honors.  As  soon  as  the  awkwardness  of  home 
and  country  life  wore  off,  they  were  as  polished 
in  their  manners  as  so  many  French  counts. 

We  don't  know  whether  our  clothes  fit  or 
not  until  we  have  a  chance  to  compare  them 
with  other  clothes  that  do  fit.  Where  nobody's 
clothes  fit,  everybody's  clothes  fit.  I  suppose 
that  a  Chinaman  thinks  his  clothes  fit,  and, 
no  doubt  they  do — in  China.  At  least,  no  one 
has  a  chance  to  know  that  his  clothes  do  not 
fit  until  he  sees  clothes  that  do  fit. 

I  remember  well  my  first  trip  to  New 
York.  I  had  been  practicing  in  the  rural 
districts  remote  from  a  railroad  for  many 
years.  The  styles  didn't  change  with  us  very 
often.  When  I  was  getting  ready  to  go  away, 
I  had  my  tailor  cut  and  make  me  a  new  suit. 
I  learned  afterward  that  my  tailor  was  a  dis- 
charged section  hand  from  a  railroad  a  hun- 
dred miles  away. 

The  suit  was  very  fine,  I  thought,  so  fine, 
indeed,  that  I  secretly  contemplated  entering 
Gotham  in  a  fashion  that  would  set  up  an 


GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE  367 

epidemic  of  paralysis  among  the  best  dressed 
people  there.  I  also  bought  me  a  new  "Plug" 
hat — "the  latest  out"  my  hatter  said. 

I  discovered  long  before  I  reached  my 
destination  that  there  was  something  wrong 
with  my  clothes.  I  attracted  almost  as  much 
attention  as  Sitting  Bull  or  the  Chinese  Embas- 
sador.  At  first  I  was  vain  enough  to  think 
that  it  was  my  personal  beauty  or  my  com- 
manding figure  that  was  attracting  all  this 
attention.  I  soon  discovered  my  mistake.  It 
was  my  clothes. 

I  reached  Jersey  City  at  last  and  crossed 
the  ferry.  I  told  the  hackman  to  drive  me 
to  the  Astor  House.  This  was  the  only  hotel 
in  the  city  that  I  had  ever  heard  the  name 
of.  After  going  through  the  trial  of  getting 
my  supper  and  going  to  bed,  I  slept  soundly, 
notwithstanding  the  great  noise  of  the  great 
city,  for  I  was  tired. 

I  arose  the  next  morning,  bright  and  early, 
and  descended  to  my  breakfast.  I  noticed 
people  looking  at  me  and  talking  low.  I 
supposed  they  were  pickpockets  who  were 
preparing  to  rob  me. 

I  had  my  money  in  one  boot  and  a  bowie- 
knife  in  the  other.  I  expected  to  make  the 
knife  leg  defend  the  money  leg  and  then  let 
the  money  leg  buy  the  knife  leg  out  of  the 
difficulty.  I  went  on  the  street  for  the  pur- 
pose of  inquiring  the  way  to  Bellevue.  There 
was  an  immense  crowd;  such  a  crowd  as  I  had 
never  seen  before.  The  side  walks  were 
packed  on  both  sides  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach  with  a  moving  mass  of  humanity,  most 
aU  of  them  going  south.  The  streets  were 


368  GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE 

filled  with  vehicles  of  every  kind.  I  asked  an 
old  gentleman  if  there  was  a  fire  anywhere. 
He  explained  that  these  were  business  and 
working  people  going  "down  town"  to  their 
places  of  business  and  labor.  I  attempted  to 
cross  the  street,  through  this  moving,  inter- 
minable mass  of  vehicles.  I  started,  faltered 
and  then  turned  back.  It  will  confuse  any 
man  to  pick  him  up  from  the  deep  silence  of 
the  great  prairies  and  set  him  down  amid  the 
rush  and  hurry  of  Broadway  in  about  sixty 
hours. 

I  waited  until  a  big  policeman  conducted 

some  ladies   across   and   fell   into   their   wake 

and  crossed  in  safety.     I  was  so  confused  and 

excited  by  the  effort,  however,  that  I  ran  into 

a  sharp  faced,  sour  looking  man  as  soon  as  I 

reached  the  other  side  and  almost  upset  him. 

"Great  Heavens!"  said  he,  "what  ails  you?" 

He  was  gone  before  I  could  explain. 

Then   some   very   elegant    and    benevolent 

looking  gentleman  grabbed  me  and  insisted  on 

taking  me  into  a  store  and  selling  me  some 

"cheap  clothing."  I  had  had  a  suspicion  for  a 

day  or  two  that  my  clothes  didn't  fit  as  they 

should.     I  now  became  painfully  aware  of  the 

fact   that    they    didn't    fit    at    all.     My    pants 

were  too  short  and  when  I  sat  down  they  drew 

up  at  the  bottoms  in  front  half  way  to   my 

knees,  and  the  side  seams  ran  directly  down 

over  my  knee  cap.     My  coat  was  long  in  the 

waist,  short  in  the  tail  and  the  collar  insisted 

in  reaching  up  and  holding  on  to  my  occipital 

protuberance,    and    my    vest    was    baggy    and 

unreliable.     My  new  hat — "the  latest  out" — 

was  just  seven  years  out  of  date.     The  rim 


GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE  369 

was  narrow  and  stuck  straight  out  all  around 
and  the  body — which  was  unusually  long — 
tapered  toward  the  crown.  The  hat  touched 
my  head  in  just  three  places — at  the  frontal 
eminences  hi  front  and  at  the  occipital  pro- 
tuberance behind.  No  Swedish  emigrant  that 
ever  landed  in  Castle  Garden  could  possibly 
present  a  more  ludicrous  appearance  than  I 
did.  I  struggled  valiantly  with  the  kind 
hearted  clothing  man  and  finally  got  away.  I 
had  heard  of  these  fellows  and  didn't  want  to 
trade  with  them.  I  slunk  around  and  tried  to 
dodge  the  crowd  until  I  met  a  policeman.  I 
asked  for  an  American  clothing  house.  He 
kindly  showed  me  the  way.  Here  I  was  fitted 
out  in  a  good,  neat,  well  fitting  suit.  I  put 
them  on  then  and  there.  The  good  gentle- 
man from  whom  I  made  my  purchase  took  me 
across  the  street  to  a  hat  store  where  I  bought 
a  new  plug  which  was  a  la  mode.  Then  I 
asked  for  a  barber  shop  and  was  shown  that. 
My  hair  was  dense,  long  and  shockey,  and  I 
had  two  little  spikes  of  a  goatee,  one  on  each 
corner  of  my  chin. 

When  I  took  my  seat  in  the  chair  the  barber 
asked  me  if  I  wanted  my  hair  cut  and  I  ans- 
wered that  I  did,  badly.  How  would  I  have 
it  cut? 

"Clean  this  stuff  off  my  chin  and  cut  my 
hair  in  the  New  York  style.  Skin  my  head, 
scalp  me,  do  anything  you  please;  but  be  sure 
it  is  in  the  style,"  were  my  orders. 

After  he  was  through  with  me  I  went  back 
to  Broadway,  took  the  right  side  of  the  street, 
walked  fast,  popped  my  heels  on  the  side  walks 
and  plowed  the  people  on  either  side  like  an 


370  GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE 

ocean  steamer  and  in  two  hours  was  a  thor- 
oughly converted  New  Yorker.  At  least,  I 
thought  I  was;  for  the  gazing  stopped. 

What  a  glorious  time  the  country  doctor 
has  in  the  great  city.  He  sits  under  the  drop- 
pings of  the  sanctuary — at  the  feet  of  the  mas- 
ters in  his  profession — and  has  the  cobwebs 
brushed  away  from  his  beclouded  mind. 

The  mysteries  are  cleared  up  in  the  clinics 
and  he  goes  to  his  room  every  night  filled  to 
the  muzzle  with  new  facts  and  new  ideas.  On 
Sunday  afternoons  he  "takes  in  the  sights" 
about  the  great  city  and  walks  his  country  legs 
off  on  the  hard  pavements.  When  he  goes 
home  in  the  spring  he  is,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  another  man  in  his  knowledge  and 
in  the  self  confidence  which  that  knowledge 
brings.  He  is  another  man  in  his  dress  and, 
perhaps,  in  his  manners. 

He  goes  home  all  "dressed  up"  and  his 
own  family  scarcely  know  him. 

I  wore  my  new  hat  all  winter  and,  when  I 
went  home  in  the  spring  I  bought  me  another 
the  finest  and  best  I  could  buy  on  Broadway. 
I  just  made  the  dressy  men  sick  with  my  new 
hat  in  my  poor  country  town  where  the  styles 
never  came  until  they  had  gone  out  everywhere 
else.  Everybody  envied  that  hat,  and  I  only 
wore  it  on  high  occasions  and  then,  I  confess 
that  I  harbored  a  secret  pleasure  in  making 
other  people  feel  bad. 

"Pride  goeth  before  a  fall,"  and  so  it  did 
in  this  case.  I  thought  too  much  of  that  hat. 

I  wore  it  one  night  in  May  to  a  strawberry 
festival  at  "the  hall."  It  was  a  church  festi- 
val and  the  whole  town  was  out  to  enjoy  it. 


GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE  371 

The  church  people  had  sent  the  boys  to  the 
woods  and  had  them  cut  and  bring  in  young 
green  trees  and  had  set  them  up  all  around 
the  walls. 

I  found  a  nice  place  amongst  the  branches 
of  the  bushes  to  put  my  hat,  and  so,  put  it 
away.  After  eating  strawberries  and  cream 
and  promenading  awhile,  my  wife  desired  to 
go  home.  We  went  around  to  get  my  hat. 

There  were  two  old  maids  from  Boston  who 
were  teaching  writing  school  in  our  town  at 
the  time  and  I  found  them  sitting  on  a  bench 
just  under  the  place  where  I  had  hung  my 
hat.  They  were  typical  New  England  old 
maids — tall,  slender,  angular,  sarcastic  and 
grave.  They  had  both  reached  that  period  in 
old  maidenhood  when  a  woman  gives  up  the  idea 
of  marrying  and  so  puts  in  a  goodly  portion 
of  her  time  for  the  remainder  of  her  life  in 
hating  the  brute  man.  I  think  that  the  sight  of 
a  pair  of  pants  on  a  clothes  line  would  have 
thrown  either  one  of  them  into  a  fit  of  hydro- 
phobia. They  were  sitting  on  this  bench  as 
stiff  and  prim  as  wooden  images  and  looked 
like  a  pair  of  exclamation  points  at  the  end  of 
a  sentence.  I  reached  for  my  hat  and  it  wasn't 
there.  I  felt  uneasy  as  I  saw  one  of  the  old 
maids  begin  to  twist  and  wriggle  about  a  little. 
I  remarked  that  one  of  the  boys  had  probably 
worn  my  hat  out. 

"Are  you  looking  for  your  hat?"  asked  the 
one  with  the  wriggle. 

I  answered  that  I  was. 

She  raised  up  and  deliberately  put  her 
hand  behind  her,  and,  without  looking  back 
or  down,  brought  out  a  shapeless  mass  of  back 


372 


GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE 


fur  and  stuff  which  no  one  but  an  expert  would 
have  recognized  as  even  the  remains  of  a  plug 
hat. 

"Is  this  it?"  said  she  with  a  voice  and  air 
which  seemed  to  mean  that  she  had  been 
saving  it  for  me;— and  she  had.  She  had 
saved  it  sure  enough.  She  had  pressed  it,  and, 


"OH,  NO,  IT  IMPROVES  A  PLUG   HAT  TO   SIT  ON  IT" 

if  she  had  had  time,  I  suppose  would  have 
pickled  it.  The  top  of  the  crown  was  crushed 
down  into  the  rim  and  the  rim  broken  clear 
across  on  both  sides.  I  inspected  it  with 
blood  in  my  eye  and  a  frog  in  my  throat. 

"Why,  it's  ruined,  ain't  it?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  no,"  I  answered  "it  improves  a  plug 
hat  to  sit  on  it." 


GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE  373 

She  manifested  no  further  interest  in  the 
matter  but  projected  her  iron  jaw  a  little  and 
continued  to  inspect  and  criticise  the  prome- 
naders.  I  had  never  laid  violent  hands  on  one 
of  the  opposite  sex,  but  it  would  have  done 
me  good  to  have  mopped  the  floor  with  this 
old,  animated  telephone  pole.  I  went  down 
the  hall  steps  in  three  jumps  and  the  next 
morning  gave  my  hat  to  a  negro  to  saw  a  half 
cord  of  wood.  I  had  not  even  then  surren- 
dered the  idea  that  that  hat  had  some  sort  of 
value  attached  to  it;  but  now,  I  feel  that  I 
cheated  the  poor  negro. 

What  on  earth  the  woman  wanted  to  sit  on 
the  hat  for  I  have  never  been  able  to  divine. 
If  the  hat  had  had  a  galvanic  battery  in  it  I 
could  understand  it;  but  it  had  none.  How- 
ever, she  seemed  to  enjoy  it,  and  I  suppose 
she  really  did.  I  made  up  my  mind  then  and 
there  to  have  my  revenge.  My  first  thought 
was  to  wreak  it  on  old  maids  in  general;  but  I 
soon  saw  that  that  would  not  do.  It  would 
not  do  to  make  good  and  kind-hearted  old 
maids  suffer  for  what  this  miserable  old  scare- 
crow had  done. 

There  was  nothing  left  but  to  take  it  out  of 
festivals.  It  was  at  a  festival  that  my  hat 
and  heart  had  been  crushed.  It  was  the 
delusive  temporary  forest  that  had  tempted 
me  to  hang  my  nice  hat  where  I  did.  So  from 
that  day  I  became  a  "festival  fiend."  I  went 
to  all  the  festivals.  I  went  early  and  late  and 
went  early  and  remained  late.  I  would  dart 
in  on  them  at  most  unusual  hours  and  seek 
opportunities  to  do  something  that  would  spread 
consternation  amongst  the  prime  movers  of 


374  GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE 

these  snares  and,  if  possible,  make  every- 
body feel  bad.  I  never  missed  one  when  I 
could  get  there. 

My  revenge  came  at  last.  In  another 
town  I  found  the  time  and  means  of  wreak- 
ing my  revenge. 

I  ran  in  to  a  festival  in  a  church  basement 
one  night  about  midnight.  It  was  late  and 
most  of  the  good  things  were  gone. 

There  was  still  a  considerable  crowd;  and 
all  the  ladies  who  expected  to  see  their  names 
in  the  papers  next  morning  as  "presiding  at 
the  table"  were  there. 

I  sat  down  at  the  table  and  thought  about 
my  hat.  The  crowd,  the  promenading,  the 
music — everything  carried  me  back  to  that 
loved  but  crushed  hat.  The  ladies  crowded 
around  and  all  wanted  to  take  my  order.  I 
wanted  oysters,  for  this  was  the  worst  of  all 
the  festival  snares — an  "oyster  festival" — as 
if  the  oysters  were  having  the  feast  instead  of 
the  folks.  A  sprightly  and  kind  hearted  lady 
took  my  order.  She  came  back  and  set  my 
dish  down  with  a  great  flourish.  It  was  a  big 
plate  of  thin,  sickly  looking  soup  with  one  little 
crippled  oyster  in  it. 

She  went  away  to  get  some  dish  water  for 
some  other  late  comer,  and  I  sat  and  looked 
straight  across  the  table.  I  didn't  vary  my 
gaze  to  the  right  or  left,  but  gazed  steadily 
and  vacantly  in  front  of  me.  No  one  seemed 
to  notice  me,  but  I  still  gazed.  I  was  deter- 
mined to  attract  attention,  and  I  finally  did. 
My  kind  hearted  friend  in  her  rounds  noticed 
me  in  passing.  She  watched  me  for  a  moment 
and  then  made  a  plunge  at  me. 


GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE  375 

"Why,  what's  the  matter,  Doctor?  Can't 
you  eat  your  oysters?"  ("oysters"  mind  you 
in  the  plural,  and  she  knew  she  had  brought 
but  one.)  Won't  you  have  something  else?" 

"No,  madam,"  I  answered.  "I  do  not 
wish  anything  else." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  eat  your  oysters?" 
"Oysters"  again,  you  see. 

"Why,  I  was  just  moralizing,"  I  said, 
still  gazing  intently  in  front  of  me. 

"Moralizing!"  she  said.  "What  are  you 
moralizing  about?" 

By  this  time  a  large  crowd  of  the  ladies 
had  gathered  around  to  see  what  the  matter 
was. 

"I  was  just  thinking,"  I  said,  "about  the 
difference  between  cultivated  and  Christian- 
ized people,  and  those  who  are  not." 

"Well,  what  is  the  difference?"  asked  a  half 
dozen,  expecting  to  get  some  compliment  or 
fact  which  they  could  use  in  "converting  the 
world." 

"Well,"  I  went  on,  "there  are  those  un- 
christian and  heathen  people  who  keep  res- 
taurants. I  go  there  sometimes  I  am  sorry  to 
say.  I  am  obliged  to,  for  we  don't  have  church 
festivals  open  on  the  streets  every  day.  Now, 
when  I  call  for  oysters  there  they  will  bring  me 
a  whole  dozen  on  one  plate.  They  do  this, 
notwithstanding  the  fact  that  they  know  oysters 
will  fight  and  claw  each  other  when  two  or 
more  are  put  together  on  a  plate.  But  what 
do  they  care?  Their  sensibilities  have  never 
been  cultivated  or  heightened  by  a  Christian  life, 
and  they  don't  care  if  the  oysters  tear  each 
other's  eyes  out.  Na-o! 


376 


GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE 


"Now,  when  I  come  here  you  ladies  bring 
me  one  oyster,  because  you  know  if  you  put 
more  than  one  on  a  plate  they  will  fight  and 
you  can't  stand  it  to  see  blood  shed,  even 
among  oysters." 

They  each  seized  a  plate  and  flew  to  the 
other  end  of  the  room  where  the  oyster  soup 
(mostly  soup)  was  made.  Then  they  halted 
and  consulted. 


1 


"NOW,  EAT  YOUR  SUPPER  AND  KEEP  YOUR 
MOUTH  SHUT" 

They  stuck  their  chins  out,  and  wagged 
their  heads  and  I  could  catch  fragments  of 
sentences  like  this: 

"Well,  I  don't  care  who  he  is;"  "Don't 
care  it  he  does— hateful  thing;"  "For  my  part, 
I'd  let  him  go,"  etc.,  etc. 

But  my  kind  friend  seized  the  ladle  and 
went  to  delving  down  into  the  broth.  She 


GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE  377 

brought  me  two  dozen  oysters,  and  emptying 
them  in  my  dish  said: 

"Now,  eat  your  supper  and  keep  your 
mouth  shut." 

I  did.  But  I  was  revenged  for  the  loss  of 
my  plug  hat,  at  last. 

But,  to  return  to  our  mutton.  It  may  be 
that  my  Western  and  Southwestern  brethren 
may  take  umbrage  at  my  criticism.  If  you 
do,  dear  friends,  please  note  that  I  have  made 
myself  the  awkwardest  of  the  "awkward 
squad." 

Now,  in  1890,  you  do  not  find  men  com- 
ng  from  the  West  looking  so  peculiarly  dressed 
and  awkward  as  heretofore;  for  the  railroads 
have  penetrated  everywhere  within  the  last 
fifteen  years.  And  where  they  go  the  styles 
go.  The  railroads  and  telegraph  annihilate 
space,  in  a  measure,  and  bring  people  a  thous- 
and miles  apart  almost  to  each  other's  doors. 

I  can  not  conclude  this  chapter  without 
urging  my  country  reader  to  go  to  the  great 
centers  every  five  or  six  years  and  take  a  few 
months  of  lectures  and  clinics.  We  all  get  into 
ruts  and  need  prying  out.  Every  man  who 
practices  the  healing  art  owes  it  to  himself, 
and  more  especially  to  those  who  give  him 
charge  of  their  sick  bodies,  to  keep  abreast  of 
the  times  in  his  procession. 

Too  much  honor  can  not  be  paid  to  the 
noble  men  in  our  large  cities  for  their  work  in 
lecturing  and  writing  and  keeping  the  "smaller 
fry"  in  the  profession  from  going  into  the  "dry 
rot."  It  may  be  argued  that  they  do  what 
they  do  from  selfish  considerations.  This  may 
be  true  of  some  but  I  am  sure  that  it  is  not 


378  GOING  BACK  TO  COLLEGE 

true  of  all.  But,  whatever  the  motive  may 
be,  the  work  is  done  and  we  poor  fellows  in 
the  backwoods  reap  the  benefit  of  it — if  we 
will — and,  in  the  end,  our  patients  also  get  the 
benefit. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY 

THE  TRUE  PHYSICIAN — THE  DIFFERENT  KINDS 
OF  QUACKS — THE  GENTLEMANLY  QUACK— 
THE  SMART  PRETENDER — THE  PROFESSIONAL 
BUZZARD  OR  "jIM  CROW"  DOCTOR — AB- 
DOMINAL DIGITALIS  AND  AORTIC  REGURGI- 
TATION — DOCTOR  CONNECKTIE  AND  DR.  GULLUS 

;N    order    to    present    the 
quack    in    his    true   light, 
let  us  first  see  what  man- 
ner of  man  the  true  phy- 
is,  so    that,  by  the 
"outlines  of  his  symmetrical 
character,    the   former  may   be 
made  to    stand   out   in   all  his 
ugly  deformity. 

The  true  physician  is  a  man 
of  good  moral  character.  His 
conduct  is  such  that,  with 
those  who  know  him  best, 
there  is  no  doubt  about  it.  His 
acts  are  the  acts  of  a  noble, 
true  and  unselfish  man,  who  means  to  do  right 
not  only  by  himself,  but  by  all  with  whom  he 
comes  in  contact.  He  is  a  man  of  knowledge 
and  is  not  content  with  what  he  already  knows, 
but  is  constantly  and  persistently  trying  to  know 
more.  He  takes  and  reads  the  best  literature 
of  his  profession,  and  would  at  any  time  stint 
his  stomach  or  cheat  his  back  of  a  new  coat  in 


380  QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY 

order  to  buy  a  new  book,  written  by  one  of  the 
masters  in  the  profession.  He  tries  to  familiar- 
ize himself  with  every  form  of  disease,  and  to 
arm  himself  with  the  best  weapons  with  which 
to  meet  and  vanquish  the  enemy.  As  an  honest 
man,  he  feels  it  his  bounden  duty  to  do  this. 
He  feels  that  if  he  should  do  less  he  would 
be  recreant  to  his  duty  and  unfaithful  to  the 
trust  imposed  upon  him  by  his  profession. 
He  is  a  brave  man,  and  is,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  a  born  warrior.  While  he  is  as 
tender  as  a  woman  with  everything  that  is  sick, 
and  that  suffers,  yet,  when  occasion  requires 
it,  he  is  as  courageous  as  a  lion,  and  does  not 
shrink  from  his  duty,  even  though  his  own 
life  be  in  danger.  From  the  depths  of  a  kind 
heart,  made  kinder  and  tenderer  through  con- 
tact with  suffering,  he  lays  his  hands  kindly 
and  tenderly  upon  all  who  are  unfortunate  and 
need  kindness  and  pity;  and  yet,  in  the  dis- 
charge of  his  duties,  he  can  inflict  pain  in  order 
to  save  life,  and  his  brave  heart  does  not  quail 
even  in  the  face  of  defeat  and  death.  He 
makes  no  pretension  to  knowledge  that  he 
does  not  possess,  and  when  he  does  not  know 
a  thing,  will  admit  that  he  does  not.  In  times 
of  epidemics,  when  death  is  upon  every  hand 
and  the  community  is  being  scourged  as  by 
fire,  while  others  flee  to  places  of  safety  and 
seek  refuge  where  the  contagion  comes  not, 
he  takes  his  place  with  his  people,  and  goes 
quietly  where  others  dare  not  enter — where 
the  seeds  of  typhoid,  cholera,  yellow  fever  and 
small-pox  are  rank  in  the  air;  and  yet  he  fears 
not.  Duty  with  him  is  everything,  and  death 
is  preferable  to  dishonor. 


QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY  381 

He  knows  the  weaknesses  and  faults  of  the 
people  whom  he  treats,  and,  like  a  true  man, 
hides  them  away  from  the  world  in  the  inner- 
most recesses  of  his  heart,  and  is  not  burdened 
— for  secrets  are  a  burden  to  those  only  who 
desire  to  tell  them. 

He  does  his  work  for  the  reasonable  remu- 
neration that  is  fixed  by  his  fellows  and  sanc- 
tioned by  law,  and  does  not  make  bargains 
and  collect  fees  in  advance  that  burden  the 
poor,  and  for  which  he  may  never  render 
adequate  services.  He  does  not  promise  to 
cure  anything  and  everything  in  order  to  get 
a  case;  in  fact,  he  promises  very  little,  but 
does  a  great  deal  where  to  do  anything  is  pos- 
sible. He  is  closely  identified  with  everything 
in  his  community  which  goes  toward  elevating 
humanity,  and  which  tends  to  ennoble  and 
dignify  human  character.  In  short,  the  true 
physician  is  an  upr  ght  and  true  man;  a  wrorker 
and  a  seeker  after  the  good  things  attainable; 
is  honest  and  unselfish,  and  a  doer  of  good 
deeds  through  all  his  life;  and  when  he  gets 
old  and  too  frail  to  work  longer,  he  can  sit 
down  with  the  satisfying  thought  that  he  has 
done  all  that  it  was  possible  for  him  to  do  in 
his  sphere.  He  meets  his  fellows  with  head 
erect  because  he  is  not  ashamed,  and  when 
death  comes  he  goes, 

"  Not,  like  the  quarry  slave  at  night, 
Scourged  to  his  dungeon,  but,  sustained  and  soothed 
By  an  unfaltering  trust,  approaches  his  grave 
Like  one  who  wraps  the  drapery  of  his  couch 
About  him,  and  lies  down  to  pleasant  dreams." 

But  what  shall  I  say  of  the  quack?  How 
shall  I  describe  him?  He  presents  himself 
in  so  many  different  forms  that,  like  the  chame- 


382  QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY 

Icon,  he  is  hard  to  describe.  In  order  to  prop- 
erly describe  him,  I  shall  be  compelled  to  divide 
him  and  describe  him  under  different  heads. 

Webster  defines  the  word  quack  as  follows: 
"A  boaster;  one  who  pretends  to  skill  or 
knowledge  which  he  does  not  possess."  We 
give  it  a  much  broader  meaning  than  this. 
We  apply  the  term  not  alone  to  the  ignorant 
boaster,  but  to  any  man  who  attempts  to 
practice  medicine  without  being  well  grounded 
in  the  fundamental  facts  underlying  an  intelli- 
gent practice;  and  even  when  a  man  is  com- 
petent, if  he  is  guilty  of  irregular  practices, 
and  resorts  to  illegitimate  methods  to  obtain 
a  practice,  we  denounce  him  as  being  guilty 
of  quackery 

The  gentlemanly  quack  may  or  may  not  be 
a  graduate,  but  he  is  a  gentlemanly  man.  He 
starts  out  in  his  professional  career  with  good 
prospects;  but  he  is  like  a  wasp — larger  when 
he  is  born  (graduates  or  begins)  than  he  ever 
is  afterward.  He  is  a  person  who  attains  to 
the  full  height  of  his  intellectual  and  profes- 
sional manhood  early  in  life,  and  afterward, 
instead  of  growing  and  broadening,  he  begins 
to  dwarf,  and  soon  becomes  professionally 
mummified.  He  does  not  attend  medical 
societies,  and  does  not  study;  never  buys  a 
new  book,  and  does  not  take  a  medical  jour- 
nal. He  does  not  "believe  in  medical  jour- 
nals," and  thinks  that  they  "do  a  doctor  more 
harm  than  good."  He  soon  forgets  everything 
that  he  ever  knew;  makes  up  a  jumbled  anat- 
omy, physiology  and  pathology  of  his  own, 
then  goes  into  a  rut  and  consistently  stays 
there.  When  in  consultation  he  will  accept 


QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY  383 

your  diagnosis  without  a  murmur,  although  it 
may  overturn  all  that  he  has  been  compelled 
to  say  of  or  to  do  in  the  case;  and  when  you 
are  gone  he  will  go  right  back  to  his  own  treat- 
ment, and  stick  to  it  until  the  patient  dies. 
He  can  not  see  why  the  patient  did  not  get 
well,  because  about  all  the  people  that  he  ever 
saw  recover  did  so  under  that  identical  treat- 
ment. "Bilious  attacks"  and  "malaria"  are 
the  favorite  diseases  of  this  man.  All  other 
diseases  he  conveniently  divides  into  "lung 
diseases."  "kidney  affections,"  and  "liver  com- 
plaints." For  the  first  he  gives  compound 
syrup  of  squills;  for  the  second,  sweet  spirits 
of  nitre;  and  for  the  third,  calomel,  podophyllin, 
or  nothing,  according  to  the  school  he  repre- 
sents. When  he  is  not  able  to  locate  the  dis- 
ease, he  bombards  the  liver  on  general  prin- 
ciples. He  gives  calomel,  day  in  and  day  out, 
in  obstruction  of  the  "common  duct"  of  the 
gall  bladder,  and  diuretics  in  retention  of  the 
urine  from  strictured  urethra.  This  same 
fellow  sits  by  the  bed  of  the  parturient  female 
for  four  or  five  days,  in  case  of  cross  presenta- 
tion and  difficult  labor  from  any  cause,  because 
he  "believes  in  letting  nature  take  its  course," 
and  sits  around  like  a  knot  on  a  log  and  lets 
women  die  from  post-partem  hemorrhage, 
because  he  does  not  "believe  in  meddlesome 
midwifery."  This  man  is  a  good  collector; 
takes  whetstones,  fiddles,  cows,  calves,  second- 
hand furniture,  and  tow  linen  and  tallow  for 
his  pay,  and  turns  it  all  over  to  the  best  advan- 
tage without  ever  discovering  that  nature  cut 
him  out  and  fitted  him  for  a  junk-dealer  and 
a  rag  man. 


384  QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY 

Perhaps  the  best  thing  that  can  be  said  for 
this  creature  is,  that  he  goes  through  his  whole 
professional  life,  and  finally  dies  without  dis- 
covering the  fact  that  he  has  killed  from  ten  to 
twenty  people  every  year. 

The  smart  pretender  is  a  different  man  from 
the  foregoing.  He  is  a  loud  man.  There  is 
nothing,  if  you  will  believe  him,  that  he  does 
not  know.  He  has  specifics  for  everything 
and  actually  cures  people,  no  matter  what  the 
disease  is.  He  gets  through  college  cheap, 
practices  medicine  cheaper  than  anybody,  and 
is  altogether  a  cheap  man.  He  gets  practice 
by  sending  word  that  he  can  cure  the  case, 
has  cured  many  just  like  it.  He  makes  a 
diagnosis  off-hand  and  at  long  range,  without 
having  seen  the  case  or  even  heard  much  about 
it.  This  man  is  unfitted  by  nature  for  the 
noble  and  exalted  duties  of  the  physician, 
because  he  is  shallow,  does  not  know  anything, 
and  is  incapable  of  knowing  much.  He  is  natu- 
rally a  coward  and  a  liar,  and  no  coward  and 
liar  ever  made  a  good  doctor.  He  seeks  prac- 
tice for  the  basest  and  most  selfish  reasons, 
and  indeed  is  never  actuated  by  lofty  and 
unselfish  motives.  This  fellow  is  transparent 
even  to  the  laity,  and  is  compelled  to  seek 
"greener  fields  and  pastures  new"  quite  often. 
He  may  take  a  new  place  by  storm,  but  he  is 
too  weak  to  "hold  the  fort"  very  long. 

We  have  also  the  professional  buzzard. 
This  is  the  weakly,  watery-eyed,  red  nosed  old 
scarecrow,  who  at  some  time  in  his  early  life 
has  gotten  hold  of  several  recipes  which  he 
considers  valuable,  and  he  is  therefore  induced 
to  give  suffering  humanity  the  benefit  of  them. 


QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY  385 

He  is  poor  and  mangy  and  mean,  and  hangs 
upon  the  outskirts  of  the  profession  just  as  the 
coyote  and  the  buzzard  hang  upon  the  out- 
skirts of  a  battle  field — picking  up  whatever 
he  can.  He  is  greasy  and  pinched,  has  a 
breath  of  benzine  and  a  general  odor  of  un- 
changed linen.  He  slinks  naturally  from  the 
true  members  of  the  medical  profession, 
always  comes  into  the  drugstore  by  the  back 
door  if  he  can  get  in  that  way,  and  learns  all 
that  he  knows  about  new  remedies  from  the 
drug  clerk.  He  can  not  write  a  prescription, 
and  he  has  a  decided  weakness  for  "yarb- 
medicines,"  which  he  gives  in  the  form  of 
"slops  and  teas."  He  pours  this  stuff  down 
his  dupes  with  about  the  same  idea,  I  imag- 
ine, that  a  hired  girl  pours  dish-water  down 
a  rat-hole — that  of  filling  a  vacuum  and  killing 
time.  This  wretched  and  dismal  old  fraud 
does  not  do  much  harm,  however,  for  the 
reason  that  the  people  whom  he  kills  are  very 
much  like  himself — making  better  fertilizing 
material  when  dead  than  citizens  while  living. 
The  advertising  quack  and  swindler  is  the 
worst  of  the  lot.  He  is  the  black  wolf,  aye, 
the  Bengal  tiger  of  the  profession.  He  is 
ignorant  as  a  physician,  but  not  an  ignorant 
man  by  any  means.  He  is  full  of  shrewdness 
and  cunning,  and  knows  poor,  weak  human 
nature  like  a  book.  He  has  within  him  all  the 
elements  that  go  to  make  the  successful  gam- 
bler, three-card  monte  man,  or  burglar.  He 
may  have  his  little  trouble,  as  all  people  do, 
but  it  is  not  with  his  conscience.  His  office 
(which  is  generally  a  fine  one)  is  a  sort  of  bunco- 
shop,  into  which  the  ignorant  and  credulous 


386  QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY 

are  inveigled  and  mercilessly  swindled.  He 
chooses  the  practice  of  medicine  as  a  profes- 
sion instead  of  burglary  because  the  law  pro- 
tects him  in  the  one,  and  does  not  protect 
him  in  the  other.  His  office  is  hung  with 
forged  diplomas,  and  with  pictures  represent- 
ing surgical  cases  upon  which  he  claims  to 
have  operated,  but  did  not;  and  his  pigeon- 
holes are  full  of  certificates  of  cure,  written  and 
signed  by  himself.  He  knows  the  value  of 
printer's  ink,  and  uses  it  liberally.  He  adver- 
tises to  cure  all  diseases,  both  acute  and  chronic; 
and  he  makes  a  specialty  of  diseases  of  the 
eye,  ear,  throat,  nose  and  lungs,  diseases  of 
the  mind  and  nervous  system,  diseases  of  chil- 
dren, consumption,  piles,  gynaecology,  and  fits. 
He  fills  his  own  prescriptions  to  prevent  the 
exposure  of  his  shallow  pretenses,  and  tells 
his  gaping  victims  that  his  medicines  cost  ten 
dollars  per  ounce  and  more,  and  that  he  sends 
to  New  York,  Boston  and  foreign  countries 
for  much  of  it.  He  is  the  discoverer  and  sole 
proprietor  of  the  never- failing  cancer  remedy 
and  world-renowned  cure  for  consumption. 
He  treats  pimples,  boils  and  local  skin  eruptions 
as  cancer.  He  sets  a  high  price  upon  his  work, 
and  always  gets  one-half  in  advance,  and,  if 
possible,  a  bankable  note  for  the  remainder. 
No  age,  sex  or  condition  in  life  is  safe 
from  the  wiles  of  this  scoundrel  and  mounte- 
bank. He  is  master  of  all  the  arts  by  which 
he  can  get  a  hold  upon  the  unfortunate  and 
suffering,  and  when  they  are  once  in  his 
power  he  is  as  merciless  as  a  pirate.  He  will 
undertake  a  case  of  consumption  at  the  brink 
of  the  grave,  will  collect  money  in  advance, 


QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY  387 

and  rob  widows  and  orphans  with  the  promise 
of  doing  something  that  he  knows  he  can  not 
do. 

He  is,  in  brief,  professionally  an  ignora- 
mus, naturally  sharp,  cunning,  cruel,  a  thief, 
a  cowardly  robber  and  a  merciless  pirate,  a 
murderer  and  a  villain  so  black  and  damnable 
that  the  English  language,  in  its  utter  weak- 
ness, fails  to  furnish  words  with  which  to  paint 
him. 

Compared  with  such  a  man,  thieves,  gar- 
roters,  burglars  and  train-robbers  become 
decent  and  respectable.  It  requires  courage 
of  a  certain  kind  to  burglarize  a  house  or  a 
bank,  and  it  requires  courage  of  a  much 
higher  order  to  rob  a  train;  but  it  does  not 
require  any  courage  at  all  to  rob  a  sick  man. 
It  requires  nothing  but  a  heart  devoid  of  pity, 
and  a  nature  supremely  selfish  and  regardless 
of  the  rights  and  interests  of  others.  Sus- 
tained by  the  fact  that  no  law  exists  by  which 
he  can  be  punished,  such  a  villain,  after  hav- 
ing won  the  confidence  of  his  victim  by  his 
specious  promises,  takes  the  last  dollar  or  the 
last  piece  of  property,  and  enjoys  his  ill-gotten 
gains  to  his  heart's  content,  while  there  is  no 
one  to  "molest  or  make  him  afraid." 

As  before  remarked  the  old  "Jim  Crow" 
doctor  does  not  do  a  great  deal  of  harm  except 
among  his  own  kind — the  ignorant.  I  have 
heard  gentlemen  in  the  profession  say  that 
they  thought  this  class  of  so-called  doctors  a 
necessity — that  they  take  the  ignorant  and 
non-paying  classes  off  the  intelligent  and 
competent  physician's  hands.  There  may  be 
something  in  this  when  we  look  at  it  from  a 


388  QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY 

purely  practical  standpoint.  But,  I  am  not 
willing  to  admit  that  ignorance  is  necessary 
anywhere  in  this  life.  I  am  more  especially 
disinclined  to  admit  that  ignorance  is  neces- 
sary to  deal  with  the  sick  and  the  afflicted. 
Ignorance  is  not  a  crime  and  can  not,  there- 
fore, be  legally  punished.  If  it  could  be  the 
infliction  of  the  death  penalty  through  the 
intervention  of  a  quack  doctor  would  be  rather 
severe,  to  say  the  least.  But,  I  still  insist  that, 
so  long  as  these  ignorant  fellows  are  permit- 
ted to  work  slaughter  through  their  ignorance 
and  incompetence  then  it  were  better  that  this 
slaughter  be  confined  to  those  who  are  the 
least  benefit  to  the  world.  Let  us  save  the 
good  and  the  useful  if  we  can  not  save  all. 

I  have  seen  and  heard  enough  funny  things 
concerning  these  ignorant  quacks  to  fill  a 
volume.  Here  is  one: 

In  a  small  town  where  I  once  practiced 
there  was  an  old  fellow  who  was  quite  innocent 
in  his  way  except  for  the  murders  he  com- 
mitted in  trying  to  practice  medicine.  He 
had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  anatomy,  phy- 
siology or  pathology,  and  was  just  as  inno- 
cent of  any  knowledge  concerning  the  thera- 
peutic value  and  action  of  drugs.  He  had  a 
nose  that  had  suffered  from  rosacea  so  long 
that  it  looked  like  an  old,  haggled  and  chewed 
up  beet,  one  of  his  eyes  was  of  the  fried  egg 
variety;  but  he  always  maintained  an  air  of 
respectability  by  wearing  a  frayed  plug  hat. 

He  was  always  slipping  in  by  the  back  door 
of  the  drug  store  and  holding  consultations  with 
one  of  the  clerks.  This  clerk  really  made  out 
and  filled  most  of  the  doctor's  prescriptions  for 


QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY 


389 


him  after  the  doctor  had  detailed  the  symptoms 
in  the  case.  This  was,  no  doubt,  better  for 
the  patient,  for  the  clerk  was  sure  not  to  rec- 
ommend or  use  any  dangerous  drugs,  while 
the  doctor,  if  left  to  himself,  might  do  so. 

One  of  our  physicians  overheard  the  fol- 
lowing conversation  between  a  facetious  drug 


"OH,  YES,  I  HAVE  CURED    THAT  TOO' 

clerk  and  this  quack,  while  the  clerk  was  help- 
ing him  on  one  of  his  prescriptions: 

"Clerk:  Doctor,  I  suppose  that  you  have 
performed  a  great  many  surgical  operations 
in  your  time." 

"Quack;    Oh,  yes,  a  great  many." 


390 

"Clerk:  Doctor,  I  have  long  since  de- 
sired to  find  a  surgeon  who  has  performed  a 
certain  operation — an  operation  which  has 
only  been  performed  a  few  times,  I  believe." 

"Quack:    What  operation  is  it?" 

"Clerk:  It  is  the  operation  of  abdomi- 
nal digitalis!" 

"Quack:  Oh,  yes,  I  have  done  that 
operation  twice;  but  the  doctors  in  this  town 
will  not  give  me  credit  for  it." 

"Clerk:  There  is  another  operation  that 
I  wish  to  ask  about  (and  I  have  no  doubt 
that  you  have  performed  it),  and  that  is  aortic 
regur  gitation." 

"Quack:  Yes,  I  have  done  that  too, 

over  at  town.  Oh!  I  tell  you,  it's  an 

awful  bloody  operation." 

After  all  of  my  experiences  with  quacks, 
and,  after  a  good  deal  of  observation  and 
devoting  much  thought  to  the  consideration 
of  the  matter,  I  feel  constrained  to  say  that 
the  honest  men  in  the  medical  profession 
would  have  destroyed  him  long  ago,  if  the 
public  and  the  press  had  permitted  them 
to  do  so. 

The  general  reader  may  not  be  prepared 
to  believe  this;  but  it  is  true  nevertheless.  I 
will  furnish  a  case  or  two  in  proof.  There 
came  to  the  town  where  I  lived  several  years 
ago,  one  of  the  brazenest  and  most  blatant 
advertising  quacks  that  I  ever  saw.  He  took 
up  fully  one-half  of  the  local  advertising  space 
of  the  best  local  paper,  and,  besides  this, 
issued  a  half -sheet  each  morning.  He  was  Dr. 
P.  Walter  Connecktie  (this  will  do  for  a  name) 
"late  of  London,  late  of  the  Hospitals  of  New 


QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY  391 

York  City,  late  of  Charity  Hospital,  New 
Orleans,"  etc.,  etc.  In  short  he  was  the  late 
Dr.  Connecktie.  Ah,  reader,  look  out  for  these 
late  fellows.  The  doctor  who  is  "late"  from 
half  a  dozen  places  will  soon  be  late  from 
your  town,  just  as  soon  as  he  gets  all  the  money 
that  the  credulous  and  gullible  are  ready  to 
part  with.  The  "late"  doctor  is  never  so 
"late"  that  he  does  not  get  a  part  of  the  money 
that  all  the  fools  have  in  the  course  of  his 
travel.  This  fellow  took  in  the  ducats  from 
every  direction — foolish,  weak  and  sick  people 
paying  $25  to  $100  for  a  single  prescription. 
Our  medical  society  finally  had  him  arrested, 
as  he  had  failed  to  register  according  to  law. 
When  he  went  before  the  justice  he  was  told 
that  if  he  could  show  a  diploma  from  a  reputa- 
ble school  he  would  yet  be  permitted  to  regis- 
ter ft  and  would  not  be  fined.  He  stated, 
with  much  blandness,  that  he  had  a  diploma, 
but  that  it  was  at  the  house  of  his  brother, 
in  Louisiana,  and  his  brother  usually  went 
duck  hunting  about  that  time  of  year,  and  it 
would  be  difficult  to  get  it,  so  he  preferred  to 
pay  his  fine!  After  this  he  did  his  practice 
through  a  local  quack  who  had  registered, 
and,  hi  four  weeks,  took  away  from  the  little 
town  over  three  thousand  dollars.  This  fellow 
wore  a  plug  hat  and  fire  escape  whiskers,  drove 
out  in  a  fine  buggy  behind  a  pair  of  spank- 
ing grays  each  afternoon  and  was  an  object 
of  wonder  and  admiration  to  every  fool  in 
town,  and  yet  he  couldn't  have  located  the  liver 
at  three  guesses  if  his  life  had  depended  on  it. 
Soon  there  came  another  fellow.  He  was 
one  of  the  lecturing  kind.  He  would  lecture 


392  QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY 

one  night  to  ladies,  the  next  to  men  alone,  and 
the  next  to  a  mixed  audience.  I  went  around 
one  night  out  of  curiosity.  I  found  him  to 
be,  in  person  and  manner,  a  sort  of  cross 
between  the  "single  footed  exhorter"  at  a 
revival  meeting  and  the  hand  shaking  poli- 
tician. He  was  a  voluble,  oozy,  sloppy,  tear- 
ful fellow — one  of  those  men  who  could  easily 
overflow  his  banks  in  the  dryest  season  on 
very  short  notice. 

His  subject  this  night  was  "Human  Kind- 
ness." He  treated  it  about  as  an  ordinary 
one-horse  preacher  would  have  done,  and, 
after  he  got  himself  properly  wound  up  he 
told  the  following  story,  he  said: 

"My  friends,  we  are,  very  few  of  us,  as 
kind  as  we  should  be;  and  many  of  us  neglect 
our  duty  to  the  poor  and  deserving.  I  will 
relate  an  incident  which  will  illustrate  this 
point.  When  I  was  young  I  had  a  very  dear 
brother.  He  was  one  of  the  noblest  and  best 
boys  I  ever  saw.  He  and  I  always  played 
together  and  what  was  the  joy  of  one  was  the 
joy  of  the  other,  and  what  was  the  sorrow  of 
one  was  shared  by  the  other.  But  we  grew 
to  manhood  and  went  out  into  the  world,  each 
to  work  out  his  own  fortune.  Our  inclinations 
led  our  paths  far  apart.  While  he  was  yet 
young  he  sickened  and  died  in  a  town  in 
Ohio.  I  was  far  away  and  could  not  be  present 
to  drop  a  tear  on  my  beoved  brother's  bier." 

At  this  point  I  noticed  that  several  handker- 
chiefs went  up  to  eyes  to  wipe  away  tears. 
He  went  on: 

"But  I  always  desired  to  see  the  place 
where  my  beloved  brother  slept.  This  desire 


QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY  393 

haunted  me  everywhere  I  went.  Finally  I 
was  in  that  part  of  Ohio  lecturing;  and,  being 
near  this  town,  I  took  the  train  on  a  Satur- 
day and  arrived  there  at  night.  I  put  up  at 
the  hotel;  but  I  could  not  sleep,  for  I  was 
near  the  ashes  of  the  brother  I  had  loved  so 
much.  The  next  morning  I  arose  and  after 
breakfast,  I  went  to  church  as  I  always  do 
when  I  have  an  opportunity."  Here  the 
most  pious  people  looked  at  each  other  and 
nodded  as  much  as  to  say,  "that's  the  kind  of 
a  doctor  I  like." 

He  continued:  "After  dinner  I  prepared 
to  visit  the  grave  of  my  poor,  dead  brother. 
While  I  was  getting  ready  the  bell  of  one  of 
the  churches  tolled  the  funeral  knell.  I  natur- 
ally asked  who  was  dead,  and  from  a  person 
who  knew  the  facts  I  elicited  the  following 
remarkable  story:  Several  years  previous  to 
this  time  there  had  come  to  this  town  a  steady 
and  intelligent  mechanic,  bringing  with  him 
his  wife  and  children.  They  were  good, 
religious  people,  but,  unfortunately,  through  evil 
association,  the  husband  contracted  the  drink- 
ing habit.  He  went  from  bad  to  worse  until, 
finally,  his  little  savings  were  all  gone  and  he 
was  such  a  hopeless  and  degraded  drunkard 
that  he  could  not  procure  work.  At  last  he 
died  in  the  gutter  and  filled  a  drunkard's 
grave.  His  family  were  left  helpless  and 
destitute,  but  the  brave  Christian  mother  toiled 
on,  doing  whatever  she  could  find  to  do  and 
lovingly  keeping  the  little  flock  together.  At 
last,  from  sheer  want  little  Willie  died,  and 
after  him  little  Anna,  and  finally  little  Johnny. 
There  were  none  left  now  but  the  brave  mother 


394  QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY 

and  little  Mary;  and,  finally  that  dread  dis- 
ease, consumption,  seized  the  poor  mother  and 
the  bell  that  I  heard,  tolled  her  funeral  knell. 
I  went  out  to  the  cemetery,  and,  after  a 
little  search  I  found  my  brother's  grave.  I 
knelt  down  and  reverently  thanked  the  Lord 
that  he  had  permitted  me  to  find  the  spot 
where  the  bones  of  my  dear  brother  and  the 
companion  of  my  youth  rested." 

More  tears  here  and,  hence,  more  hand- 
kerchiefs 

"I  sat  down,"  he  continued,  "and  let  my 
mind  revert  to  the  time  when  as  boys  this 
brother  and  I  wandered  over  hill  and  dale  and 
gathered  the  wild  flowers  and  laughed  in  our 
boyish  glee,  unmindful  of  what  the  future  had 
in  store  for  us,  and  unmindful  of  the  fact  that 
our  little  feet  which  trod " 

Here  the  doctor  broke  down  and  got  out 
his  own  handkerchief,  while  there  was  gen- 
eral weeping  and  blowing  of  noses.  The  ref- 
erence to  "little  feet"  drew  my  attention  to 
the  doctor's,  and  I  noted  that  they  were  now 
almost  as  large  as  fiddle  boxes!  After  violently 
blowing  his  nose  he  resumed: 

"While  I  was  sitting  there,  and  just  as  the 
sun  was  sinking  in  the  west,  a  funeral  cortege 
wound  its  way  slowly  into  the  grave-yard. 
There  was  no  hearse — only  a  common  wagon 
— and  only  a  few  mourners.  There  was  one 
poor,  little,  ragged  and  half  starved  girl- 
about  twelve  years  old,  whom  I  felt  sure  was 
little  Mary.  She  was  the  only  real  mourner 
and  she  was  weeping  as  if  her  little  heart  would 
break.  They  went  to  that  part  of  the  grave- 
yard which  I  knew  was  the  "Potter's  F'eld," 


QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY  395 

and  there  laid  the  poor  form  to  rest,  and  then 
they  departed.  I  still  sat,  watching  the  sun 
as  he  sank  to  rest,  and  thinking  of  the  unhap- 
piness  that  is  brought  into  the  world  by  strong 
drink,  until  the  dusk  of  evening  was  upon 
me,  when  I  arose  to  go.  As  I  did  so  I  heard 
a  choking,  sobbing  sound  in  the  direction  of 
the  new  made  grave.  I  quickly  wended  my 
way  thither  and  there,  crouched  upon  the 
little  mound,  was  the  starved  and  ragged  form 
of  little  Mary  —  clinging  frantically  to  the  earth 
that  covered  the  form  of  her  dear  mother;  left 
alone  in  the  world  to  starve  and  die,  with  no 
one  to  help  her,  and  no  one  to  love." 

Here  the  "doctor"  slopped  over  again  and 
went  for  his  handkerchief  —  in  which  act  a 
large  part  of  the  audience  joined,  while  I  looked 
around  to  see  if  I  could  find  a  rock  or  a  rotten 


"I  took  her  by  the  hand  and  gently  lifted 
her  up.  After  a  little  resistance  she  went  with 
me.  I  took  her  to  the  hotel  and  had  her  cared 
for,  and  the  next  day,  after  getting  her  some 
new  clothing,  I  took  her  to  another  town 
where  I  had  some  wealthy  relatives;  and  at  my 
solicitation  they'  adopted  her  and  gave  her  a 
splendid  education,  and  now  she  is  a  refined 
and  Christian  lady  —  one  of  the  noblest  and 
best  in  the  state  of  Ohio." 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  story  those  who 
had  been  drawing  on  their  lachrymal  sacs  gave 
their  noses  a  final  squeeze  and  the  doctor  went 
on  to  another  part  of  his  subject. 

As  the  audience  went  out  I  met  two  excel- 
lent and  kind  Christian  ladies  —  both  friends 
and  patrons  of  mine  —  whose  eyes  showed  evi- 


396  QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY 

dence  of  having  been  recently  subjected  to  a 
severe  mopping.  One  of  them  asked: 

"Doctor,  don't  you  think  Doctor  Gullus  is 
a  good  man?" 

"No,"  I  answered,  "I  don't  think  he  is." 

"Why,  doctor,  what  makes  you  say  that?" 

"Well,"  I  answered,  "because  no  good 
man  is  a  liar  and  this  fellow  is.  He  is  one  of 
the  worst  I  ever  saw,  because  he  lies  about 
things  which  ought  to  be  held  as  sacred." 

"Why,  doctor,  what  makes  you — " 

"Wait,"  said  I,  "we  can't  talk  here.  Will 
you  do  me  the  kindness  to  call  at  my  office 
tomorrow?  If  you  will  I  will  explain  myself." 

They  both  promised;  for,  in  addition  to 
having  their  curiosity  aroused,  I  had  some 
right  to  make  demands  on  their  time,  for  I 
had  slept  in  chairs  in  both  of  their  houses,  and 
held  my  finger  on  the  pulse  of  the  little  one 
when  the  issue  was  doubtful. 

True  to  their  promise  they  came  the  next 
day.  After  upbraiding  me  for  my  hard-hearted- 
ness  and  apparent  rudeness  the  night  before, 
they  demanded  that  I  should  tell  them  what 
I  meant. 

"Now,  dear  friends,"  I  began,  "you  heard 
that  story  about  the  little  girl,  did  you  not, 
and  noted  every  point  in  it?" 

Yes,  they  thought  they  had. 

"Did  you  notice  anything  inconsistent  in 
the  story?" 

"No,  they  didn't  think  they  had." 

"Well,  now,"  said  I,  "listen.  We  will 
suppose  that  this  terrible  tragedy  took  place  in 
this  town.  You  two  ladies  were  among  those 
who  visited  this  family  in  all  their  poverty  and 


QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY  397 

terrible  afflictions.  You  were  with  the  mother 
in  the  last  death  agony,  and  held  poor,  little, 
starved  and  ragged  Mary's  hand  when  the  last 
earthly  prop  was  swept  from  under  her.  You 
were  in  the  funeral  cortege  that  went  to  the 
'Potter's  Field,'  and,  after  laying  the  poor, 
wasted  form  away,  you  turned  around  in  the 
dusk  of  the  evening,  and  left  poor  little  Mary 
lying  on  her  mother's  grave,  and  you — two 
good  Christian  ladies — marched  back  to  town! 
Mary  is  left,  not  only  out  in  the  world,  but  out 
in  the  cemetery,  half  starved  and  poorly  clad 
and  night  coming  on.  Do  you  believe  such  a 
miserable  lie  as  this  concerning  any  of  the 
people  of  any  town  in  Ohio?  I  am  not  an 
Ohio  man;  but  I  desire  to  come  to  their  defense. 
I  know  it  is  not  true,  and  were  I  an  Ohio 
man  I  should  egg  that  scoundrel  before  he 
leaves  town,  or  I  would  make  him  swallow  his 
hypocritical  lie.  Why,  the  Hottentots,  the 
wild  Indians  of  the  plains,  would  not  be  guilty 
of  such  an  outrageous  thing!" 

They  looked  at  each  other  for  awhile  and 
one  of  them  spoke: 

"Jennie,  I  guess  we  made  miserable  fools 
of  ourselves." 

The  other  assented  and  added: 

"Oh,  I  could  just  take  a  stick  and  break 
his  head," 

A  woman  always  gets  mad  if  she  finds  that 
she  has  cried  at  the  wrong  time! 

"Well,  what  made  him  tell  such  a 
story?" 

"Because  he  knew  that  there  were  a  great 
many  people  who  would  make  miserable  fools 
of  themselves,"  I  answered. 


308 


QUACKS  AND  QUACKERY 


And  he  did  know.  These  fellows  know 
human  nature  like  a  book — better  than  you 
and  I,  reader. 

We  had  him  arrested  and  he  beat  us.  Why  ? 
Because  the  public  and  the  press  were  almost 
unanimously  against  us.  He  had  subsidized 
the  one  and  "bamboozled"  the  other.  He 
went  away  taking  with  him  about  $4,000  of 
fools'  money,  and  at  the  next  town  a  poor, 
weak  woman,  who  had  left  her  family  and 
followed  him  from  town  to  town,  committed 
suicide  because  of  the  hopelessness  of  her  love 
for  this  gentle  and  tender — robber. 


THE  END. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  082  976     2 


